Snippets and Drabbles
by otherhawk
Summary: This is where I'm going to put everything that doesn't fit anywhere else. Some may be slash. Some may be silly. Some may even be bloody awful. CHAPTER 60 'Sexting for Dummies'
1. People can tell

First snippet of the thing - here we go. This just came to me. I feel I should apologise, but I'm not going to.

**Title: People can tell**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Ocean's 11-13**

**Pairing: Danny/Rusty**

**Warnings: Slash, baking, one step short of being a crack!fic**

* * *

"So really, what we're talking about is a basic Double Delia with a variant Neiman Marcus on the side." Danny finished, smirking. 

Linus looked puzzled for half a second, then nodded, slowly. "That could work."

"Will work." Rusty corrected. "It did last time."

"Well, except for the snakes." Danny felt compelled to add.

"The snakes were unrelated." Rusty answered quickly, apparently before Danny could start blaming him for the whole snake incident. Again. "And anyway, this isn't Texas."

Danny had no real answer to that. Texas had certainly been his fault, though not the snakes. The snakes were all down to one Rusty Ryan. That had been Danny's favorite pair of shoes, too.

Linus was looking puzzled again. Danny almost willed him to ask, certain that any explanation that he and Rusty would come out with would baffle the poor kid further. Sadly, Linus seemed to have learnt enough not to leap head first into these things, since he chose to change the subject. "Livingstone and Basher have the place sewn up, so all we need are the hats and a trolley, right?"

"And the cookies." Danny pointed out.

"Right, I'll swing by a bakery. There's a good one on . . . "

"No!" Danny interrupted, knowing that he sounded aghast. "They've got to be home-baked or it doesn't work."

"People can tell." Rusty agreed, and just for a moment even Danny thought he was being serious.

Linus looked from one to the other. "Are you two up to something?"

"Other than the obvious?" Danny asked, wondering what 'the obvious' was this week. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of the rumors. "No."

"I can't cook." Linus admitted. Amused, Danny wondered why Linus immediately assumed they were expecting him to.

"We're talking about _baking._" he pointed out, knowing it would piss the kid off even more.

Linus blinked. "But I can't bake either."

"Of course you can't. That's what Rusty's for."

Rusty gave an ironical wave, as Danny gestured to him.

Linus blinked again and turned to stare at Rusty. "You _bake_?"

Rusty grinned. "Yes I do."

"Yes he does," Danny agreed. His mouth was almost watering at the thought.

There was a pause. Linus seemed to be trying to find a tactful way of asking his next question. "Isn't that a bit . . . " Linus waved his hands. "_girly_?" Evidently the attempt had been in vain.

"No." said Danny, at the same time as Rusty said "Yes." They exchanged a quick look. "Slightly." Danny compromised.

"Right . . . " Linus said uncertainly. "Where did you learn to bake anyway?"

"There were a lot of bake sales when I was growing up." Rusty said, deadpan. Danny unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh.

"You . . . " Linus looked from one to the other, having apparently reached his limit. "You . . . "

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Rusty grin, pull a piece of paper out of his pocket and hand it to Linus. "Here. Shopping. Make sure to get the plain flour, not the self-raising."

"And get free-range eggs." Danny added.

Linus gave both of them a look, folded the list and placed it carefully in his pocket, and left, not quite slamming the door behind him.

"You know Danny," Rusty began, moving in closer, "If you wanted me to make cookies, you could have just asked."

Danny kept his face blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Hidden Parcel would have played even without the Double Delia. You're adding in complications."

"It's more fun this way." Danny didn't know whether he meant the con, making Rusty bake, or getting Linus to go shopping. He could feel Rusty's breath on his neck and he was getting a little flustered. "Anyway, you had the recipe ready."

"Mmmm." Rusty smiled, and leaned in to Danny's shoulder. "The question is, do you really want to share the cookies with the mark?"

Oh. "We could buy him cookies from the bakery?" he suggested, hopefully.

"Good idea." Rusty said, before kissing him.

A few minutes later, Danny managed to say "But I thought people could tell?"

"Shut up, Danny."

And he did. For a while.

* * *

Thank you for reading, if you could take the time to review, that'd be nice, if you can't, hope you enjoyed my story anyway. 


	2. Dear Auntie

This is a collaborative fic written by me and ele5, following a very weird conversation.

Title: Dear Auntie . . .

Authors: ele5, otherhawk

Summary: Even successful thieves read problem pages...

* * *

_"Dear Auntie,_

_My Dad never gives me credit for what I do. Recently I had a major part to play in this big operation. I had this character down perfectly, and even my friends admitted that it played, but my Dad was all hung up on 'props for props sakes' and he wouldn't admit that I nailed it. He's driving me insane. What can I do?_

_Signed, Nose Guy"_

"Dear Nose Guy,

I think you need to have a long talk with your Dad, in a neutral environment. Point out that you're an adult now, and a successful thief in your own right.

And if that doesn't work, tell Bobby to remember Memphis. He'll know what it means.

Yours, Auntie"

_Dear Auntie,_

_Sometimes I think that my workmates don't take me seriously. I'm something of a tech head, and I think, that maybe, they sort of forget me until they need something._

_Signed: Geek Comedy_

Dear Geek Comedy,

Stop and think about it, and I'm sure you'll realise your _friends_ would be lost without you. They respect your talents, so quit worrying.

Yours, Auntie

_亲爱的婶婶,_

_有时我的工友罪状旅行我入做事, 我不是肯定的我能做。我是greaseman, 因此它是我能得到疼。_

_Signed: 人在袋子_

Dear Man in a Bag,

Yeah, but you have to admit, it was worth it.

Signed: Auntie

_"Dear Auntie,_

_I recently had a heart attack, and while I was recovering all my friends were close by, doing me a favor, if you know what I'm saying. Now that it's done, and the bastard is suffering, they've all left to go back to their own lives. I find that I'm kind of missing them, and want to invite everyone over for a visit, but I'm afraid of sounding like a sissy. What do you suggest?_

_Signed: Shook Sinatra's hand"_

"Dear Shook Sinatra's hand,

Pick up the phone already. Your friends will come running.

Yours, Auntie"

_Dear Auntie,_

_I wonder if you could point me towards a very good nail salon in Messina._

_Yours, Good Hands"_

"Dear Good Hands,

Unfortunately, I can't help you. If you aren't aware of a good nail salon, then there almost certainly is none.

Yours, Auntie"

_"Dear Auntie,_

_There's this guy who teases me all the time. He behaves as if I was an idiot and dismisses me all the time. I like him, so I can't totally ignore him or anything, but I would just like to have a little respect._

_Yours, The one who knows technology"_

"Dear The one who knows technology,

Your brother might show you a bit of respect if you showed him some too.

Yours, Auntie"

_"Dear Auntie,_

_I wonder if I did the right thing several years ago, when I introduced two people to each other. They get on well, so maybe I shouldn't regret it. Maybe I'm just old and remembering all my mistakes. However, I wonder if they could have had lives on the right side of the law had they not known each other. Sometimes, I feel quite sorry for them, especially for the younger one._

_Yours, an Old Fool"_

Dear Old Fool,

You did the right thing, so stop suffering and blaming yourself. I can tell you with uttermost surety, that  
1. neither of them could have had a life "on the right side of the law" as you so delicately put it  
2. meeting Danny Ocean was the best thing to have happened to Rusty Ryan, ever.

Yours, Auntie"

_"Dear Auntie,_

_I recently invested in a group of thieves on the condition that they would steal something in particular and would double my money. They did double my money, but gave it to charity under my name. I find myself unclear on the protocol in this situation. Should I just kill them slowly over several days, or should I have everyone they've ever spoken to killed as well._

_Signed: the Shark in the Waistcoat"_

"Dear Terry,

Did you know you just gave another eighty million to Camp to Belong?

Yours, Auntie"

_"Dear Auntie,_

_I'm worried about my best friend. He eats all the time and never gains weight. I think he might have a problem._

_Signed: Silvering, not greying."_

"Dear Danny,

Shut up and pass the nachos.

Yours, Auntie Rusty"

* * *

Hey, if you liked this fic...feel free to write a letter and answer of your own, stick it in a review and I'll add it to the fic with a credit to you. If you don't wanna, feel free to review. If you don't wanna do that, then thanks for reading anyway. ;D


	3. 5 potential beginnings

Title: 5 potential beginnings and no end

Rating: K

Summery: Five ways Danny and Rusty might have met

* * *

1

They were first introduced by a mutual friend, Saul Bloom. Neither had been looking for a partner - Danny was looking for an accomplice for one job, Rusty was looking for a way to pass the time and make a quick profit. It's funny how things work out.

When Danny explained the plan, Rusty had said immediately "It won't work."

Danny had looked back at him for a moment, and said. "Huh."

Then he'd passed the plans over to Rusty.

A week later, they were in a hotel room, watching TV, a suitcase full of bearer bonds under the bed.

2

Rusty was never sure why he tripped the goon chasing Danny. Not that he ever regretted it, but Danny had just been another guy pissing off the wrong person. Maybe it had been because Danny had met his eyes and _hadn't _been asking for help.

When the guy was down, they'd shared a look, and Rusty had got the feeling that there was something going on that he couldn't quite get a grip on.

Then the other three goons had come round the corner and they'd had to run for it together.

Always start as you mean to go on.

3

It wasn't exactly a story that they were anxious to repeat, though in their defense, it wasn't the sort of contingency that anyone would think to plan for.

With his security ID, Danny had been able to decoy the guard into the vault with no real difficulty, only to see Rusty, rappel rope at his feet, reaching for a strongbox.

The story they spun about a security test was enough to get them locked in an office, while the guard called for assistance.

In what would be the first of many moments of unspoken agreement, they absconded out the window.

4

Rusty and Danny were first introduced by the head of security at The Flamingo. They'd both been in Vegas for a few weeks, working on their own plays, and the moment the mark turned round and said "Have you met . . . " they both knew they were in serious trouble.

In the end, they combined forces and walked away with more money than either had seen before. No-one _said _"Do you wanna stay together?" but it was implied.

Rusty and Danny were first introduced by casino security. It was probably the most disastrous move ever made in Vegas.

5

Danny had to steal someone's lunch to join Freddy's gang. Apparently they'd all done it. And now they were all watching and he couldn't back down.

He picked the little blond kid. The one on the edge of the playground who watched everyone.

"Give me your lunch." Menacing. Surely.

The kid _grinned_. "Don't have any."

"Oh." Danny blinked. He'd never be able to explain why the next thing he said was "Want some of mine?"

Later, Rusty told him that stealing from adults was always better than stealing from kids, because adults had money and that was harder to trace.


	4. If the cameras kept rolling

Title: If the cameras kept rolling . . .

Pairing: Danny/Tess Rusty/Isobel. Mentioned past slash and het.

Summary: Set immediately after Ocean's 12. Silly conversation that I thought up on the train to work. Not, under any circumstances, to be taken seriously. Not even in an emergency, understand?

* * *

Saul had 'suggested' that Danny and Rusty go out for snacks after they'd been accused of cheating for the fourth time. They actually _hadn't_ been cheating, at least by their own standards. Two decades of playing poker together – two decades of working and _thinking_ in unison – did give them a slight advantage over most people. They hadn't even been cleaning anyone out, and it wasn't like they could just turn it off. The whole thing was a little unfair, but Saul had given them that look, so they'd left. Rusty had wanted Doritos anyway. 

Now, laden with enough food to feed an army – or a group that includes Rusty – they weaved their slightly unsteady way back, arguing amicably.

"I'm just saying – " Danny began, for the fourth time.

"Yeah. You said." Rusty interrupted, managing to sound like he wasn't listening.

"I'm just _saying" _Danny continued, heedlessly_ "_I think you have a thing for law enforcement."

"You just don't like – "

"Even leaving her aside for the moment, how do you explain that FBI agent in Boston?"

"That was for a job. You asked me to get close to her."

"Not _that_ close. How about that detective?"

Rusty paused. "Which one?"

"The one in Miami. The blonde."

"I didn't know she was a cop at first."

"And the other one?"

"Hit on me. It was harassment."

"How about the traffic cops in Brooklyn? Or the ones in Dallas or Atlantic City for that matter?"

"Well if you would just pay your tickets like a normal person – "

"And what about Steve?" Danny interrupted, hastily and triumphantly.

"Steve was a Mountie. He had a hat." Rusty seemed to believe that this explained everything.

Danny frowned. "And that – "

"Yes." Rusty said firmly. "It does."

"OK," Danny nodded. "I can accept that. But you do have a thing for law enforcement."

"Sure, Danny." Rusty rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle.

"You hit on Bobby Caldwell!"

If they'd been completely sober they probably wouldn't have had such bad timing. As it was, Rusty opened the door, Danny said his line and eleven very surprised people turned to stare at them.

"What?" Linus asked, faintly.

"_What_?" Isobel asked, dangerously.

"Thanks." Rusty muttered to Danny before looking between Linus and Isobel. "It was a long time ago."

"Only eight years ago." Danny said, seemingly trying to be helpful.

"Remind me why I hang around with you." Rusty said, out of the corner of his mouth.

"You hit on my dad?" Linus asked in disbelief.

"You're gay?" Isobel wasn't quite yelling.

"You didn't tell her?" Danny sounded surprised.

Rusty looked from Linus to Isobel to Danny. "Yes. No. And it never came up."

"You didn't think that maybe you should tell your girlfriend that you're gay."

"She's got a point." Danny commented.

"I'm _not_ gay though." Rusty said to Isobel, before quickly turning to Danny. "And at least I told her what I did for a living."

"That was harsh." Danny objected, quietly

"Got you back for the Teenbeat cover boy thing." Rusty said equally quietly.

Danny snorted. "And people think you're the nice one."

"I think they call it bisexual these days." Reuben remarked, ostensibly to Isobel. He was smoking a cigar, and looked like he was enjoying himself.

"Or being indiscriminate." Danny added.

"But my Dad?" Linus asked.

"Thanks, Danny." Rusty said again.

Danny grinned. "You know you love me."

"Oh my god, you're sleeping with Danny." Isobel exclaimed.

Danny blinked. "What?"

Tess stood up. "What?!"

Linus shrugged. "Well yeah, but my Dad?"

"I'm not sleeping with Rusty." Danny said carefully, looking from Tess to Isobel.

"Really?" Turk sounded a little doubtful. Frank snorted. Basher merely shook his head, disbelievingly.

"You're not?" Tess asked.

"No I'm not." Danny said.

"Yes he is." Rusty said, simultaneously.

Danny turned to stare at him in disbelief. "What?"

Rusty shrugged. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

"Is that really the best phrasing in the circumstances?" Danny asked, semi-rhetorically.

Rusty wasn't listening; Isobel had put her coat on. "I'm leaving, Robert. If you're not prepared to tell me the truth, this is never going to work."

"Isobel – "

"Don't call me for a couple of days."

She stormed out. Rusty made to follow her, but opened the Doritos instead.

Danny and Tess were having their own, quieter, confrontation.

"I wasn't lying, Tess. I've never slept with Rusty."

"Rusty said – " Tess began.

"He's a liar." Danny protested. "And a thief." he added, almost automatically.

"So are you."

"Look – "

Tess sighed and turned away. "I'm going after Isobel. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Fine." Danny ground out, hurt that she didn't believe him.

After the door was closed, Danny turned to look at Rusty. "Well."

"Yeah."

"I mean, that hasn't happened – "

"For at least a decade. I know."

Everyone else was looking away.

"So, are we playing cards?" Danny asked finally.

"Fine by me." Rusty said, opening another bag of Doritos.

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"Right. I'm going to win some of my money back." Virgil rubbed his hands.

Turk snorted. "Never going to happen."

They settled back round the table.

"So what was all that?" Saul asked, after a couple of moments, dealing the last card.

Linus was still staring at Rusty. "Fold." he said, absently. "You _really_ hit on my dad?"

Danny grinned, and raised fifty. "Rusty has a thing for law enforcement." he explained.


	5. Just not normal

Title: Just not normal  
Author: otherhawk  
Pairing: none intended, but read what you will.  
Characters: Linus, Rusty and Danny mainly, but everyone is technically there.  
Summary: Very short, silly piece in which Linus feels the need to point something out.

* * *

It had been going on for about two hours now, and Linus was so frustrated he could cry.

**  
**

What had begun as a group planning session had quickly gone downhill and now Linus had no idea what Danny and Rusty were talking about.

He looked at the pair of them; hunched over the dining table, heads bowed close together, occasionally pointing to a random point on a random plan out of the twenty or so that were covering every available surface, and saying something completely incomprehensible (or incomprehensible to Linus at any rate.)

The last time either of them had completed a sentence had been around an hour ago. Since then it had been all;

"Hmmm…"

"Well, if . . . ?"

""No, not with . . . "

"Hmmm . . . "

**  
**

And, rather more worryingly;

"Marrakech?"

"100 weight of marshmallows? No thanks."

**  
**

While Linus had been standing, watching and wishing for a translator, the others had gradually wandered off. Now Basher and Reuben were sitting together, drinking brandy and laughing; Livingston and Saul were watching MTV, which easily qualified as the most surreal thing Linus had seen that week; and Frank was playing Go Fish with Yen and the Malloys – which was probably nearly as frustrating as trying to understand Danny and Rusty, as Yen kept using his cards to make a pyramid, and the twins were arguing about who would win in a fight between Knight Rider and Herbie.

**  
**

He looked back at Danny and Rusty, who had now settled on staring and gesturing at one set of plans. Probably progress of a kind. As he watched, Rusty started to absently pat his pockets, frowning gently. After a few moments, and without ever looking up, Danny reached into his own pocket and produced a Twinkie, which he handed over.

"That, right there." Linus found himself yelling.

**  
**

Unsurprisingly everyone turned to stare at him.

**  
**

He pointed at the Twinkie in Rusty's hand. "That's not normal."

Danny and Rusty exchanged a long, meaningful glance that Linus really didn't know the meaning of, then stared at the cake in Rusty's hand.

"It's a Twinkie." Rusty said carefully.

"Not the Twinkie." Linus snapped. "You. You two."

Another long glance. "Well, we've never really tried to be _normal_ as such." Danny offered at last.

"Except for when we are." Rusty pointed out.

"Well, yeah. Except for that." Danny agreed.

"You gave him the Twinkie." Linus moved on to pointing at Danny.

Rusty looked faintly surprised, swallowed his mouthful of cake and turned to Danny. "Thanks?" he suggested.

"Don't mention it." Danny answered, looking at Linus with an expression of amused curiosity.

"But you gave him the Twinkie." He could hear sniggering from behind him. "He didn't say anything, you just handed it over."

" . . . yeah." Danny said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's just not normal." he tried.

"He was hungry." Danny shrugged. Rusty grinned and shook his head.

"He's always hungry." Turk muttered.

"Yes, well." With an effort Linus rallied himself. "We're not talking about Rusty's weird eating habits right now; we're talking about your," he gestured between Rusty and Danny, "your weird thing."

"OK?" Rusty shrugged.

"Weird thing?" Danny questioned quietly.

"You don't even like Twinkies." Linus was a little concerned as to how he actually knew that, but figured it was best not to worry about it. "So, what, you were just carrying it for when Rusty ran out of his own junk food?"

They were staring at him like he was speaking a foreign language. One that neither of them knew.

"I mean," he continued, "the finishing-each-others-sentences thing starts out cute, but – "

" – finishing each others sentences?" Rusty interrupted, blinking.

"Cute?" Danny muttered under his breath.

Linus paused to mentally regroup. "You know, when he says something and you answer before he's finished, like you already know what he's thinking." He paused again, cautiously. "You _do_ know. Right?"

There was more sniggering. Linus was really beginning to wish he'd never started this conversation.

Rusty tilted his head to one side, but said nothing.

Danny was still muttering. "I wouldn't really describe us as 'cute', that's all."

For the sake of his sanity, Linus decided to ignore him. "I mean, you do it all the time. Everyone knows. It's like this – thing." He spread his arms helplessly. "It's just not normal."

**  
**

Rusty studied him for a few beats longer, before turning away and pointing to a certain point on the plan in front of them. "There." he said calmly.

"I mean, 'cute' doesn't exactly sound manly, and we are. Well, I am." Danny's eyes flickered to where Rusty was pointing. "How about – "

Rusty rubbed at the corner of his mouth. "Run it doubled and – "

" – it's taken care of. Yeah."

**  
**

Linus watched them incredulously for a few minutes, before he turned round. Everyone immediately averted their eyes, but Basher and Yen were still sniggering.

Frank walked over and put a sympathetic arm round his shoulders. "Come on kid, come and get a drink."

He let himself be led away but found a voice to complain. "They're just not _normal_."

* * *

As I said, short and silly, but after _finally _completing Shell Game it's what I was in the mood for. Especially the short part. So, hope you liked it.


	6. A little less conversation

Title: A little less conversation  
Author: otherhawk  
Disclaimer: Once again, don't even own the title. This is getting to be a habit.  
Pairing: None. Well. Rusty/Isobel is mentioned.  
Characters: There are three.  
Summary: Short, pretty plotless and nothing but dialogue. On the other hand, _I_ think it's funny.

* * *

"But that was – "

"Yeah."

"I mean, he can't seriously – "

"_Yeah_."

"That was our job!"

"…Yeah."

"Stop agreeing with everything I say!"

"Then stop saying things I agree with."

"…We should tell people."

"OK. I _definitely_ disagree with that."

"I'm serious."

"What, you want to write a letter to Interpol or something?"

"That was our job."

"Dear Sir. Contrary to popular belief, the theft of six million dollars worth of antiquities from the British Museum was in fact the work of - "

" – Doesn't it even annoy you?"

"Not as much as getting arrested."

"You said that Isobel said – "

" – that a job that slick could only be the work of the Night Fox."

"And you're sure she wasn't winding you up?"

"She had that light in her eyes, you know . . . "

"Your girlfriend is – "

" – Oh, yeah."

"The Night Fox. What did we accidentally leave a poncy figurine behind or something?"

"Not that I noticed."

"We spent six weeks on that. I had to learn to knit."

"I got blisters."

"And you got blisters. And wouldn't stop whining."

"They hurt."

"How can Toulour claim the credit? He's insulting us."

"Careful. You're about two minutes away from calling up Terry Benedict and telling him you'll let him know where the Night Fox is, if he promises – "

"Wait a minute. Why would Benedict want to know where Toulour is?"

". . . "

"You're kidding."

"He didn't get as much as us."

"But there's only one of him."

"What, you getting greedy?"

"您人被關閉會上升和會得到移動嗎?"

"Oops."

"Sorry."

"Shall we then?"

"After you."

"No, I insist."

"您人是蠢人。Shit."

* * *

The Chinese is courtesy of Babelfish. I know, it sucks. Sorry. 


	7. Three conversations that never happened

**Wow, been a while since I put anything here. Anyway, these are three conversations that I thought up randomly over a long period of time and absolutely failed to ever manage to put into a wider context. But I thought they were pretty funny, so I figured someone else might too.**

**As ever, I do not own anything to do with Ocean's 11, 12 or 13. I also really _really_ don't own anything to do with a certain multi billion pound franchise that may or may not be recognisable in the second story and I certainly don't mean any disrespect. Seriously. I mean it. **

* * *

Where does it go?

He turned to Rusty as soon as their old high school teacher – who fortunately hadn't recognised them, as that might have ruined the whole 'mysterious foreign investor' bit a little – was out of sight.

"Remember how she said we'd never amount to anything?"

Rusty took the popsicle out of his mouth for a brief moment. "As I remember she said we were condemning ourselves to a life of poverty and crime."

Danny considered. "Well, one out of two. But poverty, I mean – "

" – yeah." Rusty agreed.

"We've been multi-millionaires, what fourteen times?"

"Fifteen." Rusty said immediately.

Danny frowned. "When – "

" – that time in Reno with the – "

" – Doesn't count." Danny shook his head firmly. "It was only for five minutes."

Rusty shrugged and went back to sucking.

"Still," Danny said wonderingly. "Fourteen times. Do you ever think . . . ?" He paused uncertainly

Rusty raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Do you ever think that we should maybe get an accountant?"

"I've got one." Rusty said casually, finishing the popsicle and looking suspiciously like he was considering chewing on the stick.

That was news to Danny. "For the hotel?" he guessed.

Rusty nodded.

"Is he any good?" he asked.

Rusty grinned. "Danny. I blew all of Benedict's money within three years, and now I'm robbing supermarkets to keep the place open. What do you think?"

Danny shook his head in mock resignation. "Oh well, guess we'll just have to avoid retirement then."

"Or we could try and learn money-management and budgeting skills." Rusty offered.

" . . . have you been watching Oprah again?"

* * *

Remember the Magic

"Seriously, you want to hit _where_?" He really couldn't believe he was hearing this.

Danny almost looked embarrassed. "It was just a passing thought."

"A seriously warped one." Rusty pointed out.

"Hey, can you imagine how much money passes through there on a daily basis?" And there was the defensive tone. "Besides, you have to admit – next to _them_ Benedict looks like one of the good guys."

"Of course he does," Rusty smoothly avoided conceding the point. "He just gave eighty million to charity."

Danny shrugged slightly. "The happiest place on Earth. How can you not want to knock it over?"

There was that. "You know, I heard somewhere that they have the third largest navy in the world." he said, thoughtfully.

"That can't possibly be true." Danny said, after a slightly incredulous pause.

"But if it is - "

" - well, we'll stay on land, just in case." Danny offered.

There was silence for a while and they stared out at the sea, definitely not looking for any suspicious looking ships.

Rusty couldn't help pondering the logistics of it though. "Get to a couple of guys in maintenance, work a good Switch Pinch and put your inside man in a costume and you could maybe do something." he mused. "Maybe. And that's your exit plan right there." he continued. "Get your inside man in front of the cameras and set up a good Fake Rapunzel and, well." he shrugged.

"You wouldn't." Danny's eyes widened.

Rusty smirked. "Hey, nothing says 'hostage' like an eight foot tall anthropomorphic mouse."

"And you say I'm warped?"

* * *

A Diplomatic Nightmare

"So," Danny began conversationally, as they watched the Night Fox - screaming obscenities in French and wearing what looked like a hospital gown – being wrestled into the back of an ambulance by a couple of burly men in white coats. "When you said you'd dealt with Toulour – "

" – You said you wanted him out of our way until we'd done the thing." Rusty said, equally casually.

"Uh huh." Danny nodded patiently. "But what exactly did you do?"

"Well, remember how you had to bail me out two days ago?"

Danny looked round quizzically, but Rusty studiously wasn't paying attention. As if he'd forget. "For public indecency and lewd behaviour." he said, with a certain satisfaction.

"And drunk and disorderly." Rusty added.

"You were sober." Danny pointed out.

Rusty shrugged. "It's a lot easier to explain away public indecency and lewd behaviour if they think you were drunk. Thanks for not asking about it by the way."

"You were smiling about it way too much for me to want to ask." Though apparently, in hindsight, he should have. "What you do in your own time, under a false name is your business." Not that that was true for a second, but it was a comforting sort of lie.

"Anyway, what I didn't tell you was who I was committing a public indecency with." Rusty paused and Danny stared.

"Toulour?" he asked incredulously.

Rusty grinned and nodded.

There were several questions in Danny's mind. He settled on the most urgent. "Why?"

Rusty paused. "Him or me?"

"Either. Both."

Rusty looked slightly insulted. "Well, _he_ was just naturally attracted to me." Danny raised an eyebrow and Rusty laughed slightly. "He thought that if he seduced me I'd be willing to give him information and work against you."

Danny couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Rusty just watched him and grinned slightly. "So," Danny asked when he finally calmed down. "What was your plan?"

"Well, as you can imagine, Toulour wasn't too happy when the cops interrupted us. He started threatening them with the full wrath of all of his important friends. Which confused them a little, since according to all available evidence he was a Mr. George Miller from Memphis. A used car salesman and a sufferer from schizophrenia."

Danny blinked; he couldn't even imagine what that would take to set up. Well, actually he _could_, he just wasn't sure he wanted to. "And so they called in – "

" – Full psychiatric evaluation." Rusty nodded. "Seventy two hours. Enough time for us to get everything done."

Which they had, leaving only one problem. "It's been four days."

Rusty looked supremely unbothered. "Oh, well."

"Rusty." Funny how it was a lot easier to stay calm and patient in front of his worst enemy than his best friend.

"Remember when he told Benedict where to find us?" Rusty asked abruptly. Danny nodded. "I really liked that car."

Danny closed his eyes for a long moment. "Call the French embassy and I'll get you a new one." he promised.

Rusty still looked uncertain. "Maybe he really is sick?" he suggested hopefully.

Danny finally snapped. "Rusty. Call the damned embassy."

* * *

**Well, hope there was something in there that amused. ;D As ever, all comments greatly appreciated.**


	8. All on the surface

**Yet more of the random thoughts that cross otherhawk's brain on a daily basis.**

**This one is set after 13, I'd think.**

**Oh, and I apologise as I rather fancy that certain parties coughInSilvacough may be rather hoping for another chapter of 'Times to Walk Away'. I can only quote a Guiness advert.**

* * *

Livingston had to admit, it had seemed like a good plan at first. Well. Actually, that was probably putting it a little strongly. It had seemed like an acceptable plan. Well, at the very least it had seemed like something that was probably necessary.

This was the downside to fame, or infamy, or notoriety, or whatever it was they actually had; it meant that if it was generally known that they were in town they wouldn't have any chance of actually pulling this whole deal off. Though, honestly, Livingston couldn't imagine that there was any chance that _he'd_ be recognised. And Saul and Rusty at least could just wander around looking like someone else, and no-one would ever know. But nonetheless, they'd agreed. No exceptions.

So for the last ten days they'd been holed up on the top floor of the hotel. Or, as he was thinking about it now, Hell On Earth. These were the guys that he trusted, and, yes, _loved_ more than anyone else in his life. He'd die for any one of them in a heartbeat, and, God help him, if things went on like this he was going to kill them all.

The trouble was none of the eleven of them was really suited to dealing with all this enforced inactivity. Predictably the Malloys had been the first to snap, with a minor spat over Evel Knievel's birthday developing into a full out fight. After Turk and Virgil, Frank had been yelling at Linus for losing the TV remote, then a few hours later Yen and Virgil had been shouting at each other over a pair of wet socks (and he'd never figure out _what_ that one was about), while Reuben and Saul bitched at each other over something that had seemingly happened thirty years ago, in another country and Turk ranted endlessly about Basher keeping explosives in the bath. And that had only been the second day. From there it had just got worse.

Turk and Virgil had fought again, and so had Basher and Frank; the twins and Linus; Yen and Reuben; Turk and Virgil _again_; Saul and Frank; Yen and the twins and that had led to Turk and Virgil getting into an actual punch-up. Not to mention the fact that Frank was stomping around complaining about his nails, Yen had somehow managed to destroy two sofas, and if Linus leaned over his shoulder, squinted at his laptop and asked what he was doing _one more time_ then Livingston was going to punch his lights out. Or at least try to.

Though, okay, Linus was apparently going through a tough time at the moment. Apparently he'd caught Danny and Rusty watching the 'Jerry Springer' marathon four days ago and it had gone some way towards shattering his illusions. He'd been ranting to anyone who would listen about exploitation and how he'd have expected better of them. Personally, having more than once witnessed the pair of them staring blankly at footage of an empty corridor for hours on end, Livingston had long ago figured that Danny and Rusty would literally watch whatever was on. And besides, as long as they were content eating room service and staring at the idiot box, the real nightmare wouldn't start. Because as agonising as all this in-team squabbling was, it was _nothing_ to what life was going to be like when Danny and Rusty finally decided that they were bored.

The sound of raised voices finally penetrated his consciousness and he realised he'd been sitting staring at the wall for the last twenty minutes or so. Well, he'd been up all night playing Team Fortress 2, and unfortunately he wasn't twenty-one anymore. Or even forty-one. More or less because he couldn't think of anything better to do, he wandered into the corridor and headed for the room where the shouting was coming from. Probably Turk and Virgil again, he decided as he pushed the door open. They hadn't had a stand-up fight for, oh, almost ninety minutes now, so they must be due.

But it wasn't the Malloys and Livingston froze in the doorway and stared. Danny and Rusty were standing in the middle of the room, yelling at each other. Danny and Rusty. Yelling. At each other. And that really just didn't add up. That really just never happened.

" _. . . so, what, you think you're better than me? Is that what you're saying?" _

"_Maybe I am. But it's always you who gets the attention. " _

"_Oh, right, and you don't think that might just be because I do all the work?"_

"_You? Work? You're kidding."_

Resisting the urge to back out of the door, Livingston caught sight of Linus, Turk, Virgil and Yen standing at the far side of the room. They looked mildly terrified and also somewhat guilty. Doing his best not to catch anyone's attention he edged round to meet them.

"_Come on, have you forgotten Tulsa? I should have abandoned you then, but no. I completely had your back even after you did your best to sabotage everything, batting your eyelashes at that Fed."_

"_Funny, that's – "_

" –_Well you would say that, wouldn't you?"_

Livingston leaned in close to Linus. "What happened?" he hissed.

"We didn't do anything!" Linus whispered back, seemingly automatically.

He rolled his eyes. "I think we're past that point now."

"_Oh, and you'll be saying next that Texas wasn't your fault either."_

"_You can't possibly still be holding a grudge over that."_

"_A simple Hidden Parcel you said. What was the rest for? Just because you have the attention span of – "_

" – _You like animals."_

"_Not snakes!" _

Turk leaned over. "It was Linus' idea." he said quickly.

Virgil nodded. "All of it."

"他做了它。" Yen agreed.

"Oh, come on!" Linus complained. "That's not fair."

Livingston looked at him. "Well?"

"Well, it's just that everyone's been arguing all the time, and I – we – got to thinking." he stopped.

Virgil leapt in. "It's just that, you know, Danny and Rusty don't really fight. With each other, I mean."

"And that's strange." Turk said. "I mean, everyone argues sometimes, right?"

"它是可怜的。" Yen put in.

Linus looked at him. "Well, I don't know if I'd say pathetic."

"_And what about St Louis?"_

"_Hey, I took a bullet for you in St. Louis!"_

"_Not that time, the other time."_

"_Well, then, I was still completely there for you. If it wasn't for me you'd have been – "_

" – _yeah, well as I remember I stopped that gorilla from – "_

" – _I had a plan!"_

"_Anyway I meant the _other_ other time."_

"_Oh. Oh, well, that's just so wrong that I don't even know where to start with you." _

"可怜。" Yen repeated.

"More like a sign of the forthcoming Apocalypse." Livingston muttered, shivering. "What the hell did you do?"

"Well, we just wanted to pick a fight between them." Linus shrugged uncomfortably. "We didn't think it would be like this."

"Shouldn't we intervene?" Turk asked. "It's getting intense."

"You really want to get between _that_?" It was getting close to unforgivable, and Livingston couldn't even begin to imagine what they were going to do if Rusty and Danny fell out permanently. The Apocalypse was looming.

"_That's it! I've had it up to here with you."_

"_Believe me, it's mutual."_

"_You just never listen to me! You're stubborn, greedy and selfish – "_

" – _And you never take anything seriously!" _

"That's enough!" Saul hadn't spoken particularly loudly, but suddenly the room was silent.

Livingston, who hadn't even realised that Saul had followed him into the room leapt about a foot in the air. "Jesus, Saul." he complained.

"Now," Saul continued as if he hadn't heard any interruption. "What exactly do you have to say for yourselves?" He was glaring at Linus, Yen and the Malloys, and Livingston was suddenly particularly glad that he hadn't been involved.

"Well, I mean, it was just a bit of fun, you know?" Linus stuttered.

Saul nodded slowly. "A bit of fun. Can't you spend five minutes without starting a fight? How old are you?"

They looked at their feet. Livingston, feeling the same guilt, reflected that no-one was brave enough to point out that Saul had spent as much time arguing as any of them over the last few days.

"我们不是那个昨天称Reuben一名自已占据心思的装腔作势者。"

No-one except Yen, apparently.

"Anyway," Linus cut in hastily. "We weren't the ones fighting. How come you're not lecturing Danny and Rusty."

Saul looked amused. "They don't look like they're fighting to me." he pointed out.

Everyone turned round slowly.

Danny was leaning against the bar, holding a large tub of popcorn. Rusty, sitting on the counter next to him was leaning his elbow on Danny's shoulder, reaching for a handful of popcorn. They were both wearing expressions of extreme innocence.

There was a long pause.

"Why?" Virgil asked finally. "Just, why?"

Danny shrugged. Rusty smiled. "You seemed to want a fight, so – "

" – we gave you one."

Linus shook his head in frustration. "Is anything ever real with you guys?"

"No." they said, cheerfully, immediately and in perfect unison.

"Still," Rusty said, turning to look at Danny. "You know what I was just thinking?"

"Uh huh." Danny nodded seriously. "We really need to start avoiding St. Louis. It's unlucky."

"Wait, so that was real?" Linus asked quickly.

"Maybe." Rusty grinned.

"What do you think?" Danny invited.

"Oh, come on." Linus whined. "Tell me."

They turned away from him. "We need more butter." Rusty said, seriously, sticking a handful of popcorn in his mouth and swallowing, apparently without chewing. "This tastes like cardboard."

"And yet you're still eating it." Danny pointed out, but he obligingly stood up straight, and they headed out the door, apparently in search of butter.

Linus followed them. "Seriously, what happened in St. Louis?"

Livingston stifled a groan, and turned to see a similarly horror-struck expression on Saul's face. It had happened. Danny and Rusty were bored. The Apocalypse was upon them.

* * *

**Once again, I can't write or indeed speak Chinese. I get it from Babelfish and it is therefore wholly inaccurate. **


	9. This never happened either

**Very short thing which noticeably isn't 'Falling like Dominoes'. I blame Tess. She's murder to write.**

**And sorry, no nudity.**

* * *

He caught sight of himself in the mirror across from his desk and only just managed to avoid smirking. Damn, he was looking good. Intimidating. The big bad. Lord of all he surveyed and eminently worth the respect and admiration of Danny Ocean and his little group of miscreants.

Which just made it all the more annoying that he didn't seem to be getting it.

For a group of people coming to him, hat in hand so to speak, needing his help _again_, they certainly weren't paying him much attention. In fact they were mostly chatting amongst themselves, arguing about something that no sane man had a hope of understanding. Well, most of them were arguing. Ryan was munching his way through a box of Cracker Jack while Ocean himself was staring into the middle distance with a slightly perplexed frown.

Terry sighed and cleared his throat, hoping to get back to the main issue. They ignored him. He coughed loudly and managed to attract at least a couple of semi-interested looks. To be honest, that would probably have to do.

"So, this little project of yours. I'm willing to give you both the investment and the floor space in the Mirage, if you triple what I give you and _return_ it to me _personally_. If not, then I'm willing to take serious steps that I think we'd all regret. Do we understand each other?"

He paused. Ocean was still staring into space. Terry really hated being ignored. "Do we understand each other?" he repeated, lowering his voice menacingly.

Ocean blinked, and seemed to come out of whatever trance he'd wandered into, but instead of acknowledging Terry in any way, he turned round and stared at Ryan. "Were you hitting on me that time?" he asked in amazement.

Terry could feel his jaw drop.

Ryan didn't seem in the least bit surprised. He just continued to stare at the prize from the Cracker Jack, a little red Robin Hood figure. "Which time?" he asked idly, not looking up.

"That time in Memphis with the guy with his pants round his ankles." Ocean answered.

Ryan paused. "Phillip." He said finally.

"Right." Ocean nodded. "His dress sense was worse than – "

" – he made up for it in other ways." Ryan grinned.

Terry desperately wished that he could think of some way of getting away from this conversation. There was a train wreck going on in his office, and judging by the startled amusement on the face of everyone else – well, actually Bloom, Reuben and Tarr seemed to be exchanging bets – he was the only one who thought so.

Ocean nodded. "So . . . ?"

"Yes." Ryan replied simply.

"Oh." Ocean blinked. "And the other – "

" – Yes." Ryan paused and considered. "Well, not in Pittsburgh. That really was all about the Marinara sauce."

Terry opened his mouth, and was completely astonished when the geek – Livingston Dell, if his memory served him correctly, which of course it always, always did – quickly leaned over his desk and sweetly said "Keep your mouth shut."

He was even more astonished when he complied.

"You've been hitting on me for nearly two decades." Ocean said slowly and under the threat of Livingston, Terry kept his mouth shut.

"Uh huh." Ryan grinned and threw Ocean the Cracker Jack toy.

"Thanks." Ocean said, absently. "All right then." He turned a smile onto Terry. "We have a deal."

Terry really had no idea what was going on anymore. But he had a feeling that there was nothing he could do anymore that was going to make himself look intimidating. Damn, he wanted a better class of archnemesis.

* * *

**So, if you liked it, let me know. And yes, for anyone who noticed, it was indeed referencing 'All kinds of sense'. But was noticeably cleaner.**


	10. Important questions

**This is the ultimate in pointlessness, but I figured I'd share anyway. ;D**

* * *

"You know how people think we're sleeping together?"

"You mean now or generally?"

"Gene . . . wait, now? As in right now? Now, now?"

"Yeah, that now."

"Who – "

" – Well, Reuben smirked at me when I went to get the whipped cream out of my room. And the twins were laughing. And Linus was – "

" – Rabbit in headlights, right?"

"Uh huh."

"You ever think we should get him a girl?"

"Or a boy?"

" . . . Bobby would – "

" – Yeah, he would. But still, maybe – "

" – Worth it?""

"A little."

"So let me get this straight. People think we're having sex at this very moment."

"Uh huh."

"With each other."

"There's no-one else here."

"Why – "

" – Well, you did drag me off to the bathroom with you earlier."

"I had to! You were two seconds away from taking that woman's jewellery."

"Well. I wouldn't say – "

" – Two seconds!"

"It was nice. She was annoying me."

"I don't get how you can be so . . . you . . . and then turn around and be so impulsive."

"Yes you do."

"Yes I do."

"So. Sex."

"Not right now, thanks."

"I meant what were you wanting to say earlier."

"Oh! Right. Well. When they're picturing it – "

" – You think they – "

" – Yes."

"Okay."

"Well, when they're picturing it, do you think I'm on top?"

"Huh."

"What?"

"You think too much."

"_I_ think too much?"

"Yes."

"It's just that I think I should be on top."

"Really."

"I mean I think that everyone thinks that I'm on top."

"Uh huh."

" . . . "

"Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"Well, I'm taller."

"No you're not – "

" - Yes I am – "

" – you're not. And even if you were – "

" – Which I am – "

" – Why would that mean – "

" – I've seen movies."

" . . . Huh."

"Yeah."

"Movies."

"Well. You know."

"Yeah. I do. Leaving aside that little personal revelation, it doesn't work that way in real life."

"I'm older too."

"I know."

"Smug is never a good look."

"Everything looks good on me."

"True."

"So to sum up, you think that our friends are picturing us having sex and that you're on top."

"Yes."

"Because you're older and taller."

"Well . . . mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Also because I'm – "

" – Right – "

" – And you're – "

" – Slightly."

"Yeah. That. Slightly."

"You know, there's a difference between being on top and being on top."

" . . . What?"

" . . . "

"What are you . . . oh!"

"Uh huh."

"Well. That's all right then."

"Long as you're satisfied."


	11. More than civil

**And this little piece of nonsense is set after 13 and in Reuben's hotel. In my mind. I don't think there's any particular reason for that.**

* * *

The two women at the bar hadn't stopped staring at Danny all night. Now, that wasn't exactly unusual and normally it wouldn't be a problem. He'd flash his wedding ring and a regretful smile and they'd back off. This pair didn't seem to be of the take-no-for-an-answer school of thought. And what was weirder, what had really left him blinking and apologetically incoherent, was that by their ages and by the family resemblance, they were mother and daughter. Which was a little strange, wasn't it? And the mother was too old, and the daughter was too young and Danny was definitely too married. Unfortunately Rusty found Danny's struggles in the face of blatant, mildly incestual, flirting hilarious, and had promptly developed a sore foot and a terrible thirst, sending Danny up to the bar for each and every round.

Of course, normally that would have led to silent squabbling and not-so-silent revenge and other pastimes guaranteed to liven up the evening. But, well, Danny couldn't help but feel that he sort of had it coming. Because surely in some strange etiquette book somewhere, it must say that if you dropped a safe on your partner's foot and broke three of his toes, then you deserved to do a little fetching and carrying. And if your partner – once he'd done turning white and not screaming – refrained from doing any more than _thinking_ about Laurel and Hardy and Abbott and Costello. Well. That probably earned a little vicarious humiliation in the name of entertainment. And since Rusty just laughed at his apologies, Danny was perfectly prepared to provide it.

Still. There was a limit to everything. And that was why - after the sixth round of drinks and the second time he'd had to move quickly to stop them actually fondling him - he put the glasses down carefully on the table, leaned over, grabbed Rusty's head and kissed him; passionately, thoroughly, and with just the barest flicker of amused satisfaction.

When they finally broke apart, Danny took his seat and met Rusty's knowing stare in silence.

Rusty glanced down at the drink in front of him. "Hope you know I don't put out unless you buy me dinner first."

"Oh, I think we both know that's not true," Danny answered immediately. He resisted the urge to look round at the bar. "Were they looking?" he asked, not bothering with pointless apologies or explanations.

Rusty grinned slightly. "Danny. Everyone was looking."

"But were they looking?" Danny pressed on. He was fully prepared to do it again, if necessary.

The grin widened slightly. "You're good," Rusty assured him. "They got to you, huh?"

He concentrated on not looking too embarrassed. "She kept stroking my – " Rusty raised his eyebrows, amused. " – arm," Danny finished severely. "And her daughter wouldn't take her eyes off my . . . "

"Yes?" Rusty asked, his voice bubbling over with amusement.

"Exactly what you're thinking." Danny grimaced.

"Ah."

"Right," he agreed.

"Why didn't you just tell them you were married?" Rusty asked after a moment.

"I did." And he didn't particularly want to elaborate.

Rusty frowned. "So, what, married but with a man hiding in the . . . oh." He got it. "Oh. Right."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "In Canada."

"Huh." Rusty took a few moments to digest that. "Was the ceremony nice?"

Danny shrugged. "It rained."

"Sad."

"And you wore a kilt," he added thoughtfully.

"A kilt." Rusty's voice was flat.

"Yeah. You said you wanted to show off your legs."

They both stopped for a moment and contemplated the appendages in question.

"Maybe," Rusty conceded. "But at least I didn't get drunk and insist on doing a Karaoke version of 'My Way'."

"I have a good voice," Danny protested, mildly offended.

Rusty shook his head. "You butchered Sinatra. Reuben still hasn't forgiven you."

"Oh, that's it," Danny shook his head in mock severity. "I want a divorce. Creative differences. Irreconcilable differences. Whatever."

"Suits me," Rusty's jaw was set and his eyes were laughing. "And just so you know? You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

There was an amused cough behind them. As one, they turned and looked up at Reuben. "Hey Reuben," Danny said lazily, and Rusty grinned.

"Do I even want to ask?" Reuben asked. It was a rhetorical question, but they shook their heads anyway. Reuben glanced over to the bar. "Let me buy you two a . . . oh!" He sounded surprised.

"What?" Rusty craned his neck to see what Reuben was looking at. Danny was still resolutely avoiding turning round.

"That's Elouise!" Reuben sounded delighted and Danny just _knew_ he knew exactly who Reuben was looking at. "She was nearly my sister-in-law, a long time ago. I've not seen her for ages. And that must be little Cindy. Listen, do you mind if I ask them to join us?"

They did. They really, really did. Unfortunately he didn't actually wait around for an answer.

Danny looked at Rusty. "They are – "

" – Uh huh," Rusty nodded grimly, and his last hope was gone.

"And they think – "

" – Yep."

"And Reuben _knows_ – "

" – Yes."

Danny sighed. "This can't possibly get worse," he said and immediately regretted it.

Rusty looked uncomfortable. "You know how I said they were looking?"

"Yes?" Danny asked, with a deep feeling of unease.

"Well . . . they didn't exactly stop looking." Rusty rubbed at the side of his mouth.

Danny didn't understand. "What?"

"They kept on looking. At both of us. In a finger-lickin'-good kind of way."

Danny really wished he didn't understand. "Oh."

"Yeah," Rusty nodded and Reuben brought the mother and daughter over to their table with a wide smile. "It's your fault for being so full of eleven secret herbs and spices."

For a brief second Danny was glad he'd dropped that damned safe.

* * *

**Shrug. Hope it made you smile, at least a little.**


	12. Real monsters

**Why it's never Terry.**

* * *

The situation was entirely in Terry's control. They were in the middle of nowhere. No-one knew about this house and by tomorrow he'd never have owned it. There were no neighbours and this room was soundproofed anyway. A perfect spot to permanently solve the problem that had been nagging at him these last few years. Four of his men stood against the walls of the room, their hands resting casually on their guns, their orders not to take their eyes off Ocean even for a second. Not that Ocean could possibly even think of trying anything. Not while Ryan was kneeling on the middle of the floor with a further three guns pointing straight at his head.

He put his hands in his coat pocket and looked straight at Ocean. "I've shown restraint in our situation thus far. But this? You've crossed the line one time too many. A lesson must be learned, about respect and about consequences. Perhaps watching your friend die will teach you that there are some people that it's dangerous to cross." He saw something flicker deep inside Ocean's eyes and smiled inwardly. "Oh, I'll let you live," he assured him. "I want to make sure that the rest of your little troupe know not to oppose me." He paused and looked at them in turn, searching for fear. There was none. Well, they were conmen he supposed. They were good at hiding everything. And he'd known it was too much to hope that they'd beg. "You may say goodbye, if you wish."

Ocean immediately turned round to face Ryan, and Terry watched, a little curious. What would it be? Last minute protestations of eternal love and devotion? More of their oh-so-witty jokes and bravado? Or – and he could only hope – blame and recriminations? There was a long moment when they just looked at each other and he couldn't even begin to guess at what might be passing between them. Then Ocean sighed and rolled his eyes, and Ryan grinned – grinned! With three guns pressed to his head! – and Terry felt his chest tighten.

"Terry." Ocean spun round and took a step towards him, and he dimly noticed four hands pull four guns a little further out of their holsters. Only very dimly. Because he alone in all the room could see Ocean's face. Could see his eyes. And it was like all the superficial charm and irritating glibness that he'd have _sworn_ was all there was to the man; all that had just been washed away, leaving something dark and predatory and utterly, utterly ruthless in it's place. "You don't want to do this."

He managed not to take a step back. Just. But he felt his hand groping for the gun he had concealed in his coat. "And why not?" he asked, and it was meant to sound amused and condescending. It wasn't meant to sound like a real question.

Ocean smiled. There was no warmth to it. He spoke very, very softly; Terry had to strain to hear. "Because if you do this there will be no place that you can hide from me. Nowhere you can run to escape me. If you do this, I will take everything from you in turn. Everything you've ever cared about. In your life. Ever. And when you have _nothing_ left – when you are _nothing_ – then? Then I'll kill you."

Terry stared at him; almost hypnotised, and when Ocean took a couple of steps towards him he backed up shakily, oblivious to his men, waiting for orders.

Ocean stopped just short of him, and it was such a struggle not to give a sigh of relief. "Do we understand each other?" Ocean asked intently and Terry realised that there was no way he could do this and let this man live. This wasn't the Danny Ocean he'd thought he knew everything about. This was something implacable, something he couldn't reason with, or buy off or intimidate. Something he couldn't hope to control. This man was willing to do things that Terry would never even dream of and he'd never understand why.

No matter. With just a little alteration this plan could still be salvaged. Leaving Ryan alive was almost as good as if it was Ocean. And no-one would ever know why he'd changed his mind.

Ocean rolled his eyes again, and something had shifted and everything that Terry had seen was gone. There was nothing in front of him but the cocky, over-confident moron that he'd always known. "And I really, really wouldn't do that," Ocean told him lightly, and somehow Terry didn't even think to question that Ocean knew what he was thinking.

"And why not?" he asked again, and this time his voice was steady and back to normal.

This time, when Ocean smiled, there was genuine amusement apparent. "Because I'm the nice one."

The ni . . . ? He was suddenly aware that he was being stared at. Unwillingly he turned his head until he was looking directly into Ryan's eyes. And he'd never really understood the whole 'icy blue eye' idea until then. He couldn't move. He couldn't move and he couldn't look away. Couldn't even blink.

"You see," Ocean went on, conversationally. "If it was me, when I finally got round to killing you, it would be quick. Probably this kind of set up, actually."

Ryan's gaze didn't waver. He wasn't even reacting to Ocean's words or voice, and his stare lacked any empathy, compassion, humanity. Terry wished he could shiver.

"Bullet through the head and it's goodnight sweet prince," Danny continued, and his voice was incongruously cheerful. "But Rusty? If I was dead, Rusty would make it last a long time. And he's meticulous. Details-oriented. I think, if I was dead, it would be a _very_ long time." Ocean's voice dropped and for a moment he was serious. "In some ways he lacks – "

" – civilisation?" Ryan suggested, a twist of a smile barely visible and certainly nowhere near reaching his eyes.

Terry felt like screaming. And not just out of frustration.

"Mercy," Ocean said quietly.

Yes. That was the real missing quality. There was no mercy here at all.

He closed his eyes. "If you came after me, you'd be signing your own death warrant."

"Yes," came the answer, and he didn't even know which one had spoken. Perhaps it was both of them. Perhaps it didn't matter.

And he knew that what they all knew was that he would never be sure that they wouldn't get to him before that happened. He knew how good they were. And now he had a glimpse of what else they were and he was terrified.

There was nothing else for it, surely. He'd have to kill both of them. He'd have to . . .

"Terry." Ocean's voice was almost compassionate and his eyes snapped open. "There are eleven of us that you know. And each of us has friends that you don't know. And we take friendship seriously. Do this and you'll never be safe."

And there was more truth in that than he could easily confront. He cleared his throat and glanced over at his men. "We're leaving."

They glanced at each other uncomfortably. "Boss?" one ventured cautiously.

Terry swallowed and immediately wished he hadn't. This was bad enough without showing weakness. "I've decided to be merciful," he explained, and some tiny, tiny part of him was actually grateful to Ocean and Ryan for not laughing. That was the story he'd spread. Something about being impressed with them, maybe even the hint of a deal. Something that showed him in the best possible light without . . . without running the risk of annoying them. And he hated that that was how he was thinking.

He let his men walk out the door in front of him, and was barely conscious of Ocean helping Ryan to his feet.

"Terry," Ocean called, and he paused in the doorway, wondering if this was going to be thanks or warning. "I don't suppose there's any chance of a lift back to town?"

He froze and took a deep breath. "Don't push your luck." He ignored the sniggering that broke out behind him.

As he walked away he heard them start talking behind him.

"We take friendship seriously?"

"What?"

"You make us sound like Barney the Dinosaur."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that show."

Ridiculous. Inconsequential. Absurd.

But he wasn't fooled. Not anymore.

Turned out monsters were real.

* * *

**If you're wondering what the hell _that_ was, so am I. Just sort of turned up in my head. **


	13. Hot gossip

**

* * *

**

Short, silly, and if you don't know the celebrity I'm not telling you and that's final.

* * *

Putting together a mock-up first edition of a glossy magazine wasn't quite as easy as it sounded. But they were managing. One way or another.

Livingston, Saul and Frank had been sent off to secure the equipment that they'd need. Rusty had thrust a notebook and pen into Frank's hand and demanded a fifteen hundred word piece on nailcare. Since Reuben had been deputised to write about shoes, the twins were looking through piles of old celebrity magazines for inspiration, and Basher and Yen had been sent off to take pictures of soft furnishings, Linus actually felt Frank had got let off lightly. At least he understood what he was writing about. Linus was writing a series of searing real life exposes. Well. He was trying to. Everything he suggested was met with a chorus of groans and cries of "Boring!" and "Not dirty enough!" So he'd made the mistake of asking for ideas. And now he was staring down at the blank page in front of him and blushing.

Rusty and Danny were editing, and taking it just as seriously as they did everything else. Rusty was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a seemingly infinite number of mock-up templates spread out around him, a look of deep amusement on his face, while Danny sat behind him on the sofa and made helpful remarks.

"What are the in-colours this season anyway?"

"Mulberry, taupe, sunflower and cerise."

"All together?"

"I like to think I could get away with it."

"That's your problem right there."

Linus stopped listening and turned his attention to where the twins were bickering.

Virgil held up a page and showed it to his brother. "How about him? He's crazy, that's always good for a laugh."

Turk glanced over. "He's gay," he commented.

"No he's not," Virgil argued. "He's married. And an alien."

Turk openly scoffed. "Like that means anything. He's totally gay."

"Oh, well, I suppose _you'd_ know," Virgil said pointedly.

"Yeah?" Turk bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tess sighed, put her book down, leaned over and looked at the magazine. "Oh, he _is _gay," she said, with a tone of complete certainty.

The twins stopped and stared at her. Linus blinked. "How do you know?" he asked, and then an idea occurred to him "It's not because you're – "

"No, Linus." She glared at him. "When I was first dating Danny, I came over for breakfast early one morning and he," she nodded at the magazine, "was sitting in the kitchen, eating toast."

There was a stunned silence.

"Danny screwed – " Virgil started, and Turk elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Oh. Right. No."

"Yeah," Turk agreed.

"But then why does that make him gay?" Linus asked with a frown.

Tess smiled slightly and shook her head. Reuben laughed. "I think the implication was that it was Danny's roommate he'd slept with."

He frowned again. "Well, who was . . . " And then his brain finally caught up. "Oh." He turned to stare at Rusty.

Neither he nor Danny looked up; seemingly completely involved in their discussion of horoscopes, though Linus would be prepared to bet everything he'd ever own on them having heard every single word said.

"So, financial difficulties being a storm in a teacup for Scorpio. How about Sagittarius?"

"Well, considering – "

" – good point."

"How about 'If a deal looks too good to be true, you should put everything you own into it'."

"Maybe a little obvious?"

"You think?"

They looked over to the people staring at them, with the sort of smile that Linus was almost certain was just for the purpose of annoying him. Tess laughed softly and went back to her book.

"What?" Rusty asked with a smile.

Virgil held up the picture.

"Oh, yeah." Danny nodded. "He wouldn't leave."

"Got to be annoying," Rusty agreed.

"And he kept complaining that we didn't have any wheatgerm," Danny said with a frown.

"I don't even know what that is," Rusty said thoughtfully.

"It's healthy," Reuben explained. "You'd hate it."

Linus wanted to be absolutely clear about this. He stared at them. "You slept with – "

" – Yes," they said in unison, then Danny frowned. "Well, he did."

"I did," Rusty nodded.

"What's he like?" Virgil asked.

"As a person, as an actor or as a lover?" Rusty asked with a grin.

"Uh . . . ?" Linus blinked.

"Fine, mediocre and average, not in any order," Rusty offered helpfully.

Danny frowned. "I quite liked him in that vampire thing. With Kirsten Dunst as the kid."

"Yeah, but that was carried by the other guy," Rusty pointed out.

"You think?" Danny looked sceptical

Rusty stared at him. "What?"

"He's kind of bland, that's all," Danny said with a shrug.

"Huh. " Rusty frowned and handed Danny another notebook. "Want to write up the movie reviews?"

Linus shook his head. "But you slept with him?"

"Yeah," Rusty agreed.

"You're a guy, and you slept with a married A-list Hollywood star."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed again.

Linus had had enough. "So, we're sitting on one of the most sensational showbiz stories ever, and we're trying to draw this guy in with a new magazine, and you don't think that maybe – "

" – We don't deal in gossip and tittle-tattle," Danny said firmly.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed. "We're a respectable publication. Besides, I don't kiss and tell." Danny looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged. "Much, anyway."

Linus ground his teeth and reminded himself for the third time that day that they were his friends.

Danny smiled slightly, and Linus was paranoidly sure he knew exactly what he'd been thinking. "Okay everyone, back to work."

He wondered if a feature along the lines of 'Men who have unhealthy relationships with their best friends' would go down well.

* * *

**Short and silly as I said. Hey, I was in the mood, okay? **


	14. A big piece of something

**Follow up to 'Real Monsters' Very short and somewhat stupid.**

* * *

Reuben knew damn well that it was a company town. There were always rumours. People talked and even if you never exactly learned to tell true from false, you learned to tell important from nothing. And this wasn't nothing. Even by _their_ standards, this was a big piece of something.

He strode into what was going to be the top floor of the Midas and the sight of Danny, Rusty, Linus and Yen playing poker around a workbench didn't even make him blink. (The fact that Linus was wearing a hard hat on the other hand . . . ) They all muttered 'hi', but no-one seemed willing to look away from the game, and normally that would have got his attention, but right now he was a man on a mission.

Linus jumped when he slammed his hand down onto the bench. Yen looked up, curiously. Danny and Rusty didn't react. Oh, he was almost sure that they had a good idea exactly what this was about.

"Did Terry Benedict try to kill you last week?" he demanded.

Linus started to choke on his gum.

Yen muttered something that Reuben didn't quite catch, but which, if asked, he'd swear blind he agreed with completely.

Danny and Rusty looked at each other for a long moment and Reuben didn't particularly want to give them that opportunity. "The truth, guys," he said firmly. "Did Benedict try to kill you two?"

"No," Rusty said immediately.

Reuben blinked. "No?" he echoed. "Empty house in the middle of the desert, men with guns . . . this ringing any sort of bell?"

Linus' choking got a little more urgent. Yen reached over and hit him between the shoulder blades.

Danny shrugged. "Well – "

" – yes," Rusty nodded, turning to face him. "but – "

" – it wasn't – " Danny pointed out.

" – it _wasn't_ – "Rusty agreed.

" – and he didn't – " Danny shook his head.

" – exactly." Rusty finished.

Reuben nodded patiently. "Can we try that again for the non-psychics in the room?"

They looked at each other again, and finally Danny made a little go-ahead sort of gesture, and Rusty looked less than happy. "It didn't really get as far as him actually trying. And he didn't want to kill both of us. Just one of us – "

" – you – " Danny interjected, and Reuben watched his eyes darken, just for a second.

"At first," Rusty agreed. "He changed his mind for a while there," And the look that flickered across his face was probably too quick for anyone who wasn't looking for it to notice. Reuben was always looking. "Anyway, we explained why it was a bad idea and he was . . . " He turned to look at Danny. "He was very reasonable about it."

"Understanding," Danny agreed.

Understanding and reasonable. Not words that Reuben would use to describe Terry Benedict. "He was ready to kill you!"

There was a slight pause. "He was born ready," Rusty said, finally and with a peculiar emphasis, and he was already offering his glass of soda as Danny dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"This is funny now?" Reuben demanded.

It was met with a shrug. "Sort of – "

" – slightly – " Danny managed to gasp out.

" – You had to be there," Rusty concluded.

"And really, we're glad that you weren't," Danny had managed to stop laughing.

"You need to start taking Benedict seriously," Linus said with a frown.

Rusty smiled. "Funny, that's basically what he said."

"And it turns out we don't," Danny nodded.

"And what happens next?" Reuben demanded. "Stuff like this, it escalates. I've seen it a hundred times before. I know how good you are, but – "

Yen interrupted with a fairly succinct summary of exactly what the problem with annoying Terry Benedict was. Though Reuben had a feeling that a couple of the more vivid descriptions might not be physically possible. Though if anyone would know . . .

"Reuben," And now Danny looked completely serious. No chance that was going to last. "We would have told you if there was any chance he'd come after anyone else."

"We would have told you if it was an issue," Rusty added. "It isn't."

"He just wanted to have a chat about respect – "

" – And consequences – "

" – yes, and – "

" – We told him there would be."

Danny nodded. "And he believed us." And looking at them then, Reuben could see why.

Linus seemed less convinced. "What, that was it? No problems?"

They exchanged another long look. "Well," Danny said eventually. "It _was_ Terry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Linus frowned.

Rusty shrugged. "Just that out of everyone who might want to kill us, well, you're higher up the list to worry about than he is."

Linus blinked. "I'm higher than . . . wait, I'm _on_ the list?"

Yen wandered into a line of speculation involving a trip to McDonalds and a kitchen knife. Reuben could see how it could come about. Linus was pretty tightly wound. He should take up Tai Chi or something.

Danny nodded. "That's exactly it."

Reuben shook his head and sat down. "So, you gonna deal me in, or what?"

Rusty grinned and reached for the cards. Reuben glared at him. "Not you," he pointed out. "You're dealing then I'm not playing." As Rusty sighed and passed the deck to Linus, a thought re-occurred. "Linus, why are you wearing a hard hat?"

He'd never understand the spluttered explanation that followed. But that was okay. It wasn't important.


	15. Playing with toys

**Act of contrition . . . **

* * *

Yen was definitely getting a headache. They'd been going on for hours now, and it had stopped being amusing the moment Linus had stopped complaining and joined in.

"No, no, no, no, no, twist it the other way!" Virgil yelled.

"That _is _the other way, sweetheart," Turk snapped.

"I mean, sort of . . . inside out." Virgil explained, and Turk and Linus stared at him. If it came to that, so did Yen.

"Inside out? Inside out?" Linus blinked down at the Rubik's Cube in his hand. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"Maybe if we hold it upside down?" Turk suggested, doubtfully.

Virgil glared. "You wanna do a handstand? Be my guest."

Yen growled under his breath and marched up to the three bickering idiots and snatched the toy away.

"Hey!" Linus objected. "We were using that!"

Succinctly, Yen told them exactly what they could do with it. Linus' expression didn't alter in the slightest, so Yen sighed and offered the same advice in English.

Linus looked hurt. "There's no need to be like that."

Virgil stepped forward. "Come on, Yen, just give it back," he said, with an ingratiating little smile. "We're just having a bit of fun. We'll try to keep the noise down, we promise."

Yen's eyes narrowed, and then he realised, and only just managed to dodge out of the way of Turk's flailing arms as he tried to snatch the Cube back. That did it. This thing was going straight out the window.

"Fine. It's impossible anyway," Linus muttered and the twins nodded and agreed.

"Bet it's broken."

"Crooked or something."

It was with great pleasure that Yen explained – at length – that it wasn't anything to do with the Cube. It was just them. Being stupid.

"Oh yeah?" Turk thrust his chin out. "Think you can do any better?"

Well. Of course he could. But why the hell should he?

With a smile, he spun round and in one smooth action, threw the Cube at the back of Rusty's head. He watched, delighted, as Danny, sitting next to him, immediately snapped his hand out and caught it. He'd been wanting to try that since Linus had thrown a cell phone at Danny the other day, and Rusty had caught it, inches from Danny's face, and Danny hadn't even blinked.

He was a little less pleased with the look that Danny gave him. Patient, firm, and full of warning. Yen gave a little half shrug, and Danny nodded and dropped the Rubik's cube onto Rusty's lap. Seemingly startled, Rusty looked up, and Danny gave him a meaningful smile, and Rusty grinned and turned to face Yen. "What's in it for me?" he asked.

Yen considered for a long moment. Then he told Rusty about his aunt in Guangxi. The one with the bakery shop. The one that specialised in mooncakes.

Rusty's eyes lit up. "Proper ones? With Lotus seed?"

Linus groaned. "Bribery now?"

Danny shrugged. "Every man has his price." Rusty turned and looked appraisingly at him. "What?"

"Yen throws in some red bean paste rolls and I'll sell you out too," Rusty said with a grin. Danny looked sceptical. "You think I couldn't?"

"I think – " Danny began, and Yen hastily interrupted and reminded Rusty of the cake and the Rubik's Cube.

Rusty grinned and thrust the papers he'd been studying up at Danny.

Yen shot a smug look back at Linus and the Malloys and pointedly started the timer on his wrist watch. Let's see, it had taken them three and a quarter hours to get precisely nowhere.

For a few long moments, Rusty just stared at the Cube, turning it over to look at all sides.

"Oh, this isn't fair," Linus complained.

"Maybe he can't do it either?" Virgil suggested hopefully.

Turk punched him on the arm. "Of course he can do it. He's, like, a freak of nature. Almost as much as you are."

Yen felt his smug expression grow and his headache recede.

With a look of amused concentration, Rusty started rotating sections. Linus and the twins watched with despair on their faces. _Yen_was watching Danny watch Rusty. Or more particularly, watching Danny watch Rusty's fingers, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

One hundred and thirty eight seconds later, Rusty threw the solved Cube back to Yen, who passed it back to Linus with a meaningful look.

"Oh, come on! It's not a fair comparison! Everyone was quiet for him. I had those two - "

Virgil glared. " - Well, we had you whining all the time - "

"Anyway, I bet Rusty wouldn't have been so quick if there'd been a distraction!"

Danny developed a sudden and unexpected cough. Yen smirked at him and suggested exactly what kind of distraction he should provide.

Danny blinked. "What?"

"Like Mary Mastrantonio and Kevin Costner," Rusty explained quietly, to Yen's complete incomprehension.

Danny seemed to understand it perfectly, of course. "Oh!" He considered. "Seriously, who uses – "

" - a spoon?" Rusty agreed.

Turk was studying the finished cube. "You're very good at that," he told Rusty, sounding less than enthusiastic.

"Just a question of thinking flexibly," Rusty said, smirking up at Danny. Danny grinned back, and Yen reflected on the little scene he'd walked in on that morning and thought that there was flexible and there was _flexible._

Of course, he made a point of saying so. But he said it quickly enough that all he got back was four blank looks and one smile that didn't even know the meaning of the word 'shame' and had an apparently very shaky idea of 'impossible'. Yen considered buying Rusty a dictionary for his birthday. Appropriately highlighted. He could share it with Danny. They possibly weren't quite too old to learn.

"Bet you're good at chess too," Linus remarked, after a second.

Danny grinned. "We only know the dirty version," he explained, and Yen made a mental note to challenge one, or possibly both of them to a match some day. Just to see how it worked. He could always learn, too.

* * *

**It's an immutable law of the universe that Rubick's cubes cannot be solved by committee. **

**And if you're thinking that there was a line there that was a little familiar, referencing something that I clearly have no right to, then you're absolutely right. But I thought it was funny, and I did at least ask. And if you don't know what I'm talking about . . . what else is new? **


	16. To fall or not to fall

**This is slightly experimental. Not sure who's running the experiment, but I know it isn't me. **

**On the plus side, InSilva has read and I am therefore assured that it's marginally comprehensible.**

* * *

"Let go."

"No."

"Rus'. _Let go._"

". . . I've . . . got you."

"Who's got you?"

"Guess that'd be me, too."

"Right."

" . . . Didn't I say to watch your feet? I feel sure I said to watch your feet."

"I did. Right up until the part where the ground went away."

"Right."

"I dropped the case."

"Uh huh."

"You didn't catch it."

"Too busy catching -

" - seriously, how – "

" – I'm holding on to the rope. It's twisted round my – "

" – how long – "

" – oh, I'm pretty sure I'll break before it does."

" . . . Was that supposed to be comforting?"

"Yeah."

"You know – "

" – how about never?"

"Rus'."

"Danny."

"There's no point in us both going over."

"You fall, I fall, remember?"

". . ."

" . . . "

"That was 'Titanic', wasn't it."

"You start singing the song and we both take the plunge."

"Death before Dion?"

"Always."

"And I see you cast yourself as the pretty one again."

" . . . you think he's – "

" – shut up."

"Actually, they're both pretty."

"Well? So are we."

"This the part where we say we're too young to die?"

"Nobody's too young to die."

"Good last words. You'd better keep quiet from now on."

"How about you? Got anything – "

" – profound? No. Profane? Plenty."

"Well, you'd better get thinking."

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't pull you up."

"I know."

"And if I try – "

" - I _know_. Let go."

"Not so good at that."

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Remember Fleetwood? The unpickable lock, the French polishing and – "

" – the mob? Yeah. I thought we were going to – "

" – me too. We didn't."

"Are we going to die here?"

"No."

"No."

"Okay then. If I was a little – "

" – higher, and less – "

" – weight, you think – "

" – yes. Maybe. I could try."

"More positive thinking. Don't try, do."

"You think you could reach about three feet to your left, Yoda?"

"The ledge? . . . No."

"Ah."

"How about you?"

"Move over and swing you?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds – "

" – oh, it _is_. But I'm not seeing – "

" – choices . . . Fuck."

"What?"

"My legs want a divorce."

"I'll trade for my arms."

"Nah. Everyone knows your hands wander."

"Take that back!"

"Never. Ah!"

"Bad?"

"Like being a football."

"Who's playing?"

"Rams."

"You're fine then."

"You ready?"

" . . . Can't exactly say no, now can I?"

"This is going to – "

" – hurt. Yeah."

"Don't pass out."

"Thanks."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Aaah! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!"

"Yeah. Second that."

" . . ."

"Danny?"

" . . . "

"Danny!"

"Give me a minute."

"I don't think we've got one."

" . . . Okay. With you."

"Got your feet on the ledge? "

"Oh, you'd know if I hadn't."

"Right. On – "

" – three."

"Let's make it four."

"Why?"

"I don't like to be – "

" – predictable?"

"Funny. One."

"Two."

"Three."

"_Four!"_

"_Four!"_

" . . . . . . . . "

"You can get off me now."

"I could."

"You can let go of my hands now."

"I can't."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

" . . . "

"I don't want to."

"Good. Hospital?"

"Hotel. Minibar. Room service. TV."

"Bed."

"Bath."

"_Hot_ bath."

" . . . "

"What?"

"When did we get old?"

"Come on. I'll get you – "

" – I'll take the slippers. You can keep the pipe."

* * *

**Hoped it amused.**


	17. Eavesdropping

**This story was mostly written on a NEW COMPUTER! Sorry, I'm excited. Now if I was only a little more confident as to how the blasted thing worked I'd be a lot happier, and a lot less worried that I'm going to accidentally delete all my files. You may mock (seriously, you may) but my incompetence knows no bounds. **

**Oh, and if my stories can be divided into pointlessl angsty, preciously pretentious and utterly ridiculous, this little piece is firmly in the third camp. ;D**

* * *

Linus ground his teeth. Three hours. _Three hours_. It didn't sound like such a very long time. It hadn't sounded like such a very long time. Turned out that three hours could be eternity. At least, it was while waiting in a laundry room for Victor Florentine to finish firing his board of executives.

On the plus side, apparently between the detergent and the mould growing on the floor, Basher had enough raw material to blow them all to Kingdom come. You know. If it became absolutely necessary.

He watched Yen watching the nearest washing machine go round and round. He listened to Turk, eating corn chips and explaining to Frank exactly how Virgil had crossed the line and forever severed the sacred bonds of brotherhood. Or something. He sighed. A massive explosion that killed them all? It might just prove necessary.

Where was Virgil anyway? He looked round and finally spotted him, sitting under a tumble dryer, radio receiver clamped to his ear, and giggling to himself. Oh. Hell. That probably merited investigation.

He stood up and stretched and wandered over. "What are you listening to?" he asked, conscious that he'd attracted the others' attention.

"Dinner theatre," Virgil grunted.

Linus blinked. "What?"

"You remember how Livingston wired the private office for sound two weeks ago? When we thought we needed the mail drop?"

"Uh huh." He did. Vaguely. The details had changed half a dozen times since then. He paused. "Wait, that's where Danny and Rusty are."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed with a smile.

"It's still working?" Frank asked, with interest.

"Uh huh."

"And you're listening to them?" Turk sounded incredulous.

"Yep." Virgil smiled. "And they don't know."

"Don't you think that's a little . . . immoral?" Linus suggested uneasily.

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked

"Never mind what he means, turn it up!" Basher demanded.

If Linus was that easily deterred he would have quit _years_ back. "You know. Spying on our friends? Besides," he hesitated. "They might say something . . . private."

Frank sighed. "You still on about that?"

"About what?" Turk asked curiously.

"He thinks Danny and Rusty are sleeping together," Frank explained.

"Might be. _Might _be," Linus corrected hastily. He didn't know, after all.

"Of course they are," Turk said, with a frown. "What's the problem?"

"No they're not," Virgil said quickly. "They're just good friends."

"That's what you said about you and Betty Sue, and it wasn't true then, either," Turk said smugly.

"They're not sleeping together," Frank's tone was final.

"Yeah they are." Evidently Basher was equally convinced.

And Linus really didn't know and Yen shrugged in a way that effortlessly signified that he really didn't care.

"Guys," Linus tried. "Do we really have nothing better to do than discuss Danny and Rusty's sex life?"

They all took a long look round the laundry room.

"Pretty much, yeah." Turk nodded.

That was pathetic. True, but pathetic.

Frank sighed. "Turn the radio up, Virgil."

Linus frowned anxiously. "But suppose - "

"Look," Frank said impatiently. "Even if they were sleeping together - "

" - which they are," Turk interrupted.

" - which they're not," Frank glared, "But even if they were, do you really suppose they'd be doing anything in the middle of a job?"

"He's got a point," Basher nodded. "That'd be really stupid. They're proper professionals, and that'd be dangerous and reckless. They couldn't possibly . . . "

He trailed off. There was a long and thoughtful silence.

"Turn the radio up," Frank said eventually, "And if it even sounds like they're doing anything, we'll turn it off immediately."

"And scour out our ears," Virgil muttered.

They all crowded round and Linus tried not to think too hard about just what it was that was so endlessly fascinating about Danny and Rusty. But he did want to know what they talked about in private. If a tree fell, and there was no-one to hear it, were they still as weird?

Rusty's voice faded up first. "_I guess it's like -_ "

" _- the leaning tower of Pisa_," Danny supplied.

"_Right_."

"_But more dairy-product based_."

Well. That was that question answered. He exchanged a baffled look with Frank. Yen laughed to himself.

There was a brief silence and Danny spoke again. "_You know those little flowers made of onions you get in Chinese restaurants_?"

"_You're making me hungry_."

"_You should be used to it by now_."

"_Danny." _There was a marked whine in Rusty's voice, and Linus could have lived quite happily without hearing that.

There was a sigh and a rustle of a packet. "_Here._"

Another pause and again Danny broke it. "_It's just that I don't get the point of them_?" Silence. "_I mean, what are they trying to achieve_?" More silence.

"_You know, I could betray you. If I wanted to_. _I could sell you out_." Rusty's voice was thoughtful. Linus could feel his jaw drop. That was the least likely conversational gambit he'd ever heard. He looked round at the others and saw similar expressions of incredulity. Even Yen looked mildly perturbed.

"_If it comes to that, who first thought of them_?" Danny asked. Linus had to admire his priorities; if _his_ best friend was talking about betraying him, he'd have questions about more than decorative vegetables.

"_Not that I do want to,"_ Rusty went on, ponderously_. "At the moment. But it's not a _completely_ laughable idea_."

Linus glanced at Basher and shook his head. Personally, he thought it was one of the most laughable ideas he'd ever heard.

"_Why_?" Danny said at last. And there was curiosity in his voice, but even Linus could tell he wasn't asking why they were having this conversation.

He leaned over to Virgil and whispered. "You're sure they don't know we're listening?"

"They can't," Virgil said, firmly. "So talk normally."

"_Don't know. Suppose maybe if you were in the way of something I wanted."_

"Like a chocolate cake?" Turk suggested.

"Would take more than that," Frank snorted.

Yen made an alternate suggestion.

Basher frowned. "But he'd need Danny for that," he pointed out.

_"__Okay. So you'd betray me." _Danny sounded remarkably relaxed; they could've been discussing the weather. Not that Linus could actually imagine them discussing the weather.

_"__Think I'd have to kill you, actually." _And there was regret in Rusty's voice and Turk choked on his corn chips and Virgil patted him on the back. A lot harder than he probably needed to.

_"__Oh, I'd imagine so." _Danny agreed. _"Because – "_

_" – __I couldn't – "_

_" – __not without – "_

_" – __well, you'd _know_."_

Huh. He'd always kind of assumed that they only did that to annoy. Specifically, him.

_"__Exactly."_

_"__Yeah."_

_"__You'd kill me."_

_"__I'd make it quick."_

That was supposed to be comforting?

He looked round. The twins were wide-eyed, Yen had stolen Turk's corn chips and Frank hadn't stopped laughing.

He leaned in next to Basher. "What were you saying about blowing up the building?"

"Not yet," Basher whispered back. "I want to know how this ends."

Badly, Linus would guess. Very, very badly.

_"__Thanks."_

_"__Not for you. It's just that too many people make the mistake of – "_

_" – __talking." _Danny finished, understandingly.

_"__Monologuing." _Rusty corrected.

There was a long period of silence, and Linus could imagine the conversation that he couldn't see or understand.

_"__Always worked to our advantage in the past." _Danny said, finally and lightly and Linus blinked, and wondered when they'd ever found themselves facing a villainous monologue. And whether death ever really had been on the cards.

_"__But as long as I'm one of _them_, I don't want to give _us_ an advantage." _Rusty explained.

There was another moment of quiet, which was just as well, because Linus was still trying to figure out that sentence.

Basher grinned. "Own goal. Apparently Rusty's on Danny's side, even against himself."

_"__Still." _Danny said thoughtfully.

_"__Yeah." _Rusty agreed

_"__I mean – "_

_" – __it would be a shame – "_

_" – __just a bit of a monologue?"_

_"__A little bit. Then I'd kill you."_

_"__Right." _

After a while, Linus thought, most things sounded reasonable. This wasn't one of them.

_"You know the other thing I don't get?"_ Rusty began_._

_"Fashion?"_ Danny suggested.

The twins burst out laughing and Linus grinned to himself. To his knowledge the shirt Rusty was currently wearing was a peculiar shade of maroon that kind of shimmered in low lighting. He could think of no-one else who'd ever wear it.

_"Hush."_ Rusty scolded_. "About taking over the world."_

_"We're on to taking over the world now?"_

Somehow, Danny didn't sound half as bemused as Linus felt.

_"Well, as long as I'm doing the monologue . . ."_

_"So I'm the only thing holding you back from achieving your dreams of world domination."_

_"Yeah."_

_"Good to know."_

Turk frowned. "You know, I'd believe that."

"Rusty in charge of the world?" Frank laughed. "I'd pay to see it."

Yen sketched out a vision of streets paved with chocolate and trains that not only ran on time, but sideways. In space.

Basher looked thoughtful. "He is a lot more serious when Danny's not around. Maybe he would be some place else."

Frank shook his head. "The only time Danny's not been around for any length of time is . . . " he trailed off, and Linus gritted his teeth and didn't ask for details.

"Yeah," Basher agreed.

"Well, that doesn't count," Frank said firmly.

They tuned back in to the show.

_"How do you let everyone know?"_ Rusty was wondering.

_"What?"_ Danny asked blankly.

_"Well, there's 6,677 billion people in the world."_ Rusty began, and stopped.

_"Hmm?" _

_"According to the CIA."_ Rusty explained.

_"Right."_

_"So how do I go about letting them know I'm their new ruler?"_

There was a pause_. "The CIA?"_ Danny asked, at last.

_"The people."_ Rusty answered, patiently.

_"Form letter?"_

_"Personal phone call?"_

_"Email?"_

_"Simultaneous holographic broadcast in every major population centre?"_

That sounded more like them. Virgil frowned. "Roman could probably do that."

Danny laughed._ "At any rate, we have a world now. What are we going to do with it?"_

_"You're dead, remember? You don't get to play."_

_"I'm dead like Jack Bauer."_ Danny claimed, obscurely_._

_"So you only pretended to be dead in order to betray yourself and help me take over the world?"_

_"Like you'd know what to do with the world without me."_

Frank grinned. "Now that's probably true."

Linus sighed and wished he didn't agree.

_"What do you do with a world?"_ Rusty pondered.

_"See?"_ Danny was triumphant

_"No, wait, wouldn't it mean everyone would be coming to me to solve their problems?"_

_"Apparently they do anyway."_

_"You can't still be pissed about that."_ The grin in Rusty's voice was audible.

_"Watch me."_

_"Anyway, I've changed my mind."_

_"What, the world is not enough?"_

_"Guess everyone can die another day."_

_"Live and let die, that's what I always say."_

_"Suppose we can take a quantum of solace from that."_

Oh, that one was pushing it a bit. Actually, the first one had been pushing it.

There was a moment of silence. And yet again, Linus got the impression that there were things happening on a level past his understanding_. "What?"_ Danny asked at last, his voice filled with amusement

_"Trying to think of something to say about Octopussy."_

_"Let's leave it there."_ Danny said, hastily.

Well, that was a relief.

_"Okay."_

_"You should have a cat."_ Danny said, suddenly.

For once, Rusty actually seemed slightly surprised. _"Huh?"_

"_To stroke."_

"_For the - "_

" _- Villainous monologue." _

Linus nodded. That made sense. Wait, what the hell was he _thinking? _

"_I don't like cats."_

"_Well, it's not the same with a Saint Bernard."_

"_How about a goldfish?"_

"_Okay. That's the strangest mental image I've had all day."_

"He hasn't had to imagine himself having sex with Rusty," Virgil muttered.

"How do you know?" Turk put in.

"_It's only eleven. There's still time."_

Linus blinked and reminded himself that Rusty was answering _Danny. _Not the twins.

"_How about a rabbit?" _Danny suggested, thoughtfully.

"_Why?"  
_

"_I only know one thing about rabbits."_

Yen started giggling. Linus stared at him, and wondered just what it was about rabbits that he was missing.

"_Oh. You know all those people who say you aren't funny? Turns out they're wrong."_

"_Wait, who says I'm not funny?"_

Rusty's phone rang. Annoyingly. "_Uh huh? Right. Thanks._"

"W_as that - "_

" _- Livingston."_

"_Right." _Danny raised his voice. "_Guys? Curtain up. Two minutes._"

"Okay," Linus answered automatically, then blinked. "Wait . . . "

"They can't hear us," Virgil insisted.

"_That's right_," Danny and Rusty agreed in unison.

There was a long pause.

"I hate you," Linus sighed.

"_Two minutes_," Danny repeated, a smile in his voice.

Linus leaned over to Basher. "So, you just need to mix the detergent powder and the mould . . . ?"

"_I could sell you out though. I mean. If I wanted to."_

"_Well, I'll keep trusting you right up till it happens. And for a long time afterwards."_

* * *

**Hope you found it amusing.**


	18. Inexplicable

**Short piece of absolute nonsense that comes with the disclaimer to end all disclaimers; I do not own Ocean's 11 or any characters recognisable therein. That much is a given. More to the point, I have no personal knowledge, and barely any public knowledge, of any movie stars who may or may not be in this ridiculous story. Anything that looks libellous is a complete fiction and fabrication. Be willing to bet he has significantly better manners than this for a start. Are we clear? This is entirely made up.**

**Oh, and it's set sometime early in Danny/Tess relationship. So, eight years or so pre movie  
**

* * *

Tess thought that she reacted very well. In the circumstances. She opened the bedroom door, yawned and stretched, caught sight of the man sitting at the breakfast bar reading the paper, and slammed the door shut again.

Danny, pausing in the middle of putting on his right sock, gave her an enquiring look.

"Tom Cruise is in your kitchen," she told him, in a level whisper.

There was a pause as Danny appeared to carefully consider this information from all angles. "Oh," he said at last and turned his attention to finding a left sock.

Tess loved Danny. Loved Danny a great deal, as it happened. But there were times when he could be less than helpful. "Tom Cruise is in your kitchen," she repeated, just in case he hadn't got the point the first time round. "Don't you think you should do something about that?"

Danny shrugged. "Are you sure it's him?"

She glared and hissed furiously. "Yes I'm . . .do you honestly think I'm going to say that Tom Cruise is in your kitchen unless I'm absolutely certain that Tom Cruise is in your kitchen? _Tom Cruise is in your kitchen!" _

There was a short pause. Danny stared at her. "Why are you whispering?" he asked at last.

"So he doesn't hear us," she explained, with a roll of her eyes. Danny knew nothing about subterfuge.

Danny smiled and stood up. "Pretty sure he knows he's Tom Cruise. Pretty sure he knows he's in the kitchen."

Tess caught his arm before he reached the bedroom door. "But don't you want to know what he's doing here?"

"Rusty went out last night," Danny said, as though that explained everything. Which, it possibly did.

"I thought he was still seeing Amelie?" she frowned.

Danny shook his head. "They broke up at the weekend."

"Oh," Tess took a moment to digest that. She'd liked Amelie. It had been nice to feel that she had an ally against the incomprehensible, the inpenetrable and the inexplicable. Even if that alliance had never extended beyond sharing the occasional bewildered smile or amused frown. And she was a little tempted to ask why they'd broken up, and a little more tempted to ask if going out and picking up movie stars was normal rebound behaviour, in Danny's experience. "So Tom Cruise doesn't bother you?"

Danny stopped to think. "Is he going to start acting?" he asked and Tess had to hold back a giggle.

"Probably not," she conceded.

Danny thought some more. "Did he drink all the coffee?"

"I hope not," she said, wide-eyed.

"Then there is no problem," Danny declared, and he pushed open the door and left the bedroom.

Tom Cruise looked up and blinked, confused. "Julia?"

Tess gritted her teeth. "No."

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically. "You really look like someone I know."

She quickly turned to look at Danny but his face was completely blank. Which was good.

"I'm Danny, and this is Tess," he said, extending a hand.

Tom shook it and smiled again. "You know who I am," he paused. "You do know who I am, right?"

They nodded.

"Good, that's good. And you, uh, your roommate. He knows who I am, right?"

Danny nodded. "He liked 'Top Gun'."

Tess noticed that Danny carefully didn't offer his own opinion.

"Right," Tom nodded. "Because I said that we needed to be discreet and he seemed to find that amusing."

"And yet you're here," Tess couldn't help noting.

"He said . . . " Tom frowned. "He sort of _smiled _and . . . "

"Ah," Danny nodded understandingly. "Got it."

Tom and Tess both gave him a look.

"Anyway," Tom went on, after a pause. "He said he'd trust you with his life." He laughed. "Actually, he said he'd trust you with _your_ life, but I guess he said it wrong."

Tess wondered.

Danny smiled and started to pour them a coffee. "Would you like a coffee, Mr Cruise?" he asked politely.

Tom held up a cup. "Thanks, I'm still working on this one. You don't have any brown sugar, do you? I could only find white, and it's full of toxins."

"Our sugar is full of toxins?" Danny blinked.

"All sugar," Tom explained.

"Ah," Danny nodded and sipped his coffee.

"And you're out of bagels," Tom frowned. "And yoghurt. And I couldn't find your wheatgerm."

Tess could feel her mouth hanging open. "I . . .I don't think they have any wheatgerm." Judging by the look on Danny's face, he didn't have the slightest idea what wheatgerm actually was.

Tom had a similarly uncomprehending look in his eyes. "No wheatgerm?" he asked, like this was an alien concept.

"Where is Rusty, anyway?" Tess asked. With any luck they could get him to sort out his own mess.

"Rusty?" Tom frowned. "He said his name was Vlad."

Vlad? _Vlad?_ Really? She opened her mouth to explain, when Danny quickly spoke up. "Rusty is a nickname," he said, and she shut her mouth, because, really, he hadn't even lied.

"Anyway, he left at about half four this morning," Tom said, and Tess looked at her watch and raised an eyebrow. That had been about six hours ago. "He said he could give me a lift back to my hotel, but I said I was fine here."

"Right," Danny blinked. "Did he say anything . . . ?"

Tom frowned in concentration. "Something about elevator cables and grease. He seemed excited about it."

Well that was completely inexplicable. She turned to share her disbelief with Danny, but stopped. His eyes were shining and there was a smile on his face. "Well, that works," he muttered. He turned to face her abruptly. "Tess, I'm really sorry but I need to go."

Right. She sighed, and suddenly missed Amelie. Tom was back staring at the paper. "Okay," she told Danny resignedly.

"See you tonight," he promised, pulling on his jacket, and glancing briefly at Tom Cruise. "Can I give you a lift back to your hotel?"

"Nah, I'm good," he said, absently.

Danny looked back at Tess and shrugged slightly. Apparently they now had a celebrity squatter. And that fact didn't seem to be bothering Danny nearly as much as she felt it should.

She kissed him goodbye and watched him leave before she sat down on the stool next to Tom Cruise. "Have you finished with the Culture section?" she asked, and he passed it over. "Thanks."

They sat side by side and read in silence for a while.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed, please don't sue me.**


	19. The problem of metaphor

**Very short, very pointless and written in my lunchbreak. And the ten minutes immediately following my lunchbreak. _So _not what they pay me for. So I wound up feeling guilty and staying twenty minutes late. Ah, well. **

* * *

It was Linus' plan, which could be why he was quite so worried about everything. He was definitely in danger of developing a twitch in his left eye as he told everyone for the fifth time exactly what he wanted them to do that morning. Getting the team together was one thing. Getting the team together and heading in the right direction was something else altogether, and Linus was no Pied Piper.

Still, he was trying. And judging by the tone of the heckling, he wasn't doing _too _badly.

" . . . so just to make it clear - " he pressed on.

" - we were clear the first time," Turk grumbled, throwing a crumpled up wad of paper at Virgil. Frank leaned forwards, snatched it out of the air and smoothed it out.

"Nice drawing," he said, raising an eyebrow at Turk. "Good likeness."

Interested, Danny peered over his shoulder. "That's not how you spell 'waistcoat'."

"And wasps are never that cooperative," Rusty added, from his side.

Linus cleared his throat. "Anyway, as I was saying, at _exactly_ three minutes past nine, while Bash is under the basement and Saul is at the podium, Danny and Rusty are doing their Cagney and Lacey bit out front."

That got him a few looks, for some reason. Danny looked up from supervising Rusty's additions to Turk's drawing, and blinked. "Cagney and Lacey?" he asked, incredulously.

"The cops," Linus explained. They'd been through this before. Several times. "You know. Like your double act thing."

Danny's expression didn't change. "Cagney and Lacey?"

"You can be Cagney," Rusty offered generously.

Danny shot him a look. "That wasn't actually my issue."

"Fine," Rusty shrugged. "I'll be Cagney."

"No, I'm Cagney," Danny insisted automatically and then frowned. "_Not_ the issue," he corrected himself.

"What _is_ the issue?" Reuben asked, looking entertained.

"Think Danny doesn't want to be a girl," Frank said with a shake of his head. "Little bit narrow minded, you know what I'm saying?"

Yen expounded on the subject at length.

"Exactly," Rusty nodded. "Not to mention, Cagney was cool."

"Look," Linus tried. "It was just a metaphor - "

" - more an analogy - " Livingston muttered.

" - they were just the first pair of cops I happened to think of," he finished determinedly.

Danny still didn't look happy. "Why not Starsky and Hutch?" he suggested, shooting a look at Rusty's shirt. "The wardrobe fits."

"Nah," Rusty argued. "Too many car chases. You know you don't - "

" - I _don't_ like car chases." Danny agreed, apparently struck by this argument.

"Because you're bad at them," Rusty nodded.

There was a couple of moments of silence. Danny looked at Rusty. Rusty looked at Danny.

They both spoke at once and Linus ground his teeth. "I'm not bad at them!" "You missed the interstate!"

"When?" Danny demanded.

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Many, many times."

"When during a car chase?" Danny glared.

Rusty smiled. "That time after - "

Enlightenment apparently dawned. "- with the veil - "

" - and the gramophone - "

" - and the creepy - "

" - little doll. Yes," Rusty agreed.

"Oh, that doesn't count," Danny argued. "We were clearly cursed. That doll . . ." He shuddered. "And that wasn't a proper car chase anyway."

Rusty frowned. "There were cars. Following us at high speed. There were people shooting. There might even have been a helicopter, I'm not sure. What more do you want? Bruce Willis?"

"He's not here, is he?" Linus asked, fearfully.

They both took a moment out from the discussion to stare at him.

"Anyway," Rusty said eventually. "You missed the interstate. Twice."

Danny grimaced. "Yeah," he conceded. "And I dented your fender, if I remember rightly."

"You did," Rusty agreed.

Livingston's brow was creased. "How did that end?" he asked.

Rusty shrugged. "The insurance company paid out. Five of them did, actually."

"The car chase," Livingston clarified, with a sigh.

Danny grinned. "Oh - "

" - badly - " Rusty put in.

" - very badly," Danny nodded. "Sort of like - "

" - Thelma and Louise?" Rusty suggested.

Danny paused. "I was aiming for Butch and Sundance."

"If you were in a car, you'd probably miss," Rusty told him.

Linus cleared his throat. "Anyway, 0903, Basher is under the basement, Saul is at the podium, Danny and Rusty are out front and Yen is being Spiderman - "

He was interrupted by a torrent of angry Chinese.

Rusty frowned, when Yen paused for breath. "But you're not nearly angsty enough to be Batman," he pointed out.

Yen turned on him with a furious glare and Danny opened his mouth thoughtfully and Linus groaned. He'd definitely felt his left eye twitch.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, hope you liked.**


	20. 3 x sex and chocolate

**Three short pieces. Very short. Very stupid.**

* * *

**Glasgow**

*

Danny was trying. He really, really was.

" . . . it's kept on the upper balcony at the end of the corridor with constant surveillance. Motion sensors and thermal imaging means the moment someone sets foot in that corridor, the alarms sound, the gates come down and it's goodnight sweet prince."

Unfortunately, there were some things that it was a little difficult for a man to put up with. Rusty was one of them at the best of times.

This was _not_ the best of times.

"Of course, the police know the painting is threatened, so there's extra security laid on round the clock, and in the circumstances, we can expect them to be armed."

He was supposed to be explaining the job. He was supposed, in particular, to be explaining the complete impossibility of the job in order to get the others sufficiently intrigued. Unfortunately, he kept getting distracted. Unfortunately, judging by the constant sideways glances, so did everyone else.

"Then, all we need to do is take the two meter high canvas out of the museum without . . ." He gave up. " . . . Rus', what the hell are you eating?"

Rusty looked up from his obvious enjoyment of the monumentally _wrong _combination of grease and chocolate. "Local delicacy," he explained.

"But what is it?" Turk asked, impatient and surprisingly wide-eyed.

"Deep fried Mars Bar," Basher put in, in the tone of a man who has seen it before and really had no desire to see it again.

Danny looked at Rusty for a long moment and wondered exactly what he was being punished for. Delicately, Rusty licked the grease off his fingertips.

"What?" Reuben was incredulous.

"They take a Mars Bar – or any chocolate bar, really, but Mars Bars are traditional – and they dip it in batter and then throw it in a deep fat fryer," Rusty explained.

"'s a heart attack in a polystyrene box," Basher contributed.

Danny stared some more and thought about last week.

"It's kind of like Mars Bar tempura," Rusty added pensively.

Last week, when they'd been talking in front of Isabel.

Saul looked immensely disapproving. "You want to live to see your next birthday?"

Last week when he might just have let slip to Isabel about Istanbul and Rusty getting shot.

Apparently that had been a little more of a mistake than he'd realised.

"They also do deep fried pizza," Rusty said happily.

He grinned at Danny and motioned for him to continue.

Danny kept his smirk firmly on the inside. Oh, this wasn't over.

* * *

**Comparisons**

*

They were absently watching Danny and Rusty bedazzle the check-in girl, and it was clearly only a matter of time before they were booked on to the already fully-booked flight.

"Donna said," Virgil began, then he frowned. "You remember Donna?"

There was an outbreak of nodding. They remembered Donna.

"Donna said that it's like opening your door to find Scarlett Johanssen and Halle Berry there. And not only are they looking at you like you're the most amazing thing they've ever seen, you know – just _know –_ that the moment your back is turned, they're going at it like it's their last night on Earth."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, that's just plain disturbing," Frank said at last.

Turk reached over and punched his brother in the arm. "You've been saving that for the worst possible moment, haven't you?"

Rubbing his arm, Virgil glared. "Don't see why I'm the only one who has to suffer."

Linus stared at the ceiling as though he was trying to erase the images.

Livingston looked thoughtfully over at Danny and Rusty. He seemed to come to a decision. "They're more like Sophia Loren and Marilyn Monroe."

Everyone looked at him in silence. He'd clearly given the matter too much thought.

* * *

**Alien Sex Pollen**

*

Stakeouts were boring, there was no denying it. But really, there was no need for _this._

"Okay, okay, okay," Turk was saying exuberantly. "Here's one. If you absolutely _had _to sleep with someone in this room, who would it be?"

Linus' mouth hung open. "Under what possible circumstances . . .?" he spluttered.

"Alien sex pollen," Danny and Rusty said in unison.

That attracted a lot of looks. Okay, unconditional, endless, boundless, limitless, whatever – but some things no two people should be that in tune about.

"Late night movie," Danny said, which explained exactly nothing.

"Right," Virgil nodded. "So there's alien sex pollen in the air, and you need to screw one of the people in this room or else you'll both die. Who'd it be?"

"I am not having this conversation," Saul said firmly, and vanished behind a newspaper.

"Thank God," Linus muttered, clearly feeling he was going to be in therapy long enough as it was.

"You first," Turk said to Virgil.

Virgil shook his head. "No. You."

They both turned and grinned at Linus. "You first," Turk demanded.

Linus squeaked and didn't look at Rusty and didn't look at Danny and didn't look at DannyandRusty. "Frank!" he said, firmly and randomly.

Frank blinked and looked torn between disturbed and flattered.

The twins immediately rounded on Frank. "Come on! Alien sex pollen! You have to choose immediately."

Rather oddly, Frank appeared to actually think about it seriously. "Basher," he said finally.

"Good choice," Reuben nodded.

"Sensitive," Danny agreed.

"Would probably bring you flowers the next day," Rusty volunteered.

Basher glared, and Linus considered that he wouldn't be so quick to annoy a man who was carrying four pounds of plastic explosives.

"Was that another vote for Basher, Reuben?" Turk asked. Looked like he was keeping score.

"I'm going to die unless I sleep with someone in this room? I'm going to close my eyes and go with whoever's closest."

"Which at the moment is Turk," Virgil said cheerfully. "So that's one for Frank, one for Basher and one for Turk."

Turk glared at him. "I choose Rusty."

"Yeah," Basher agreed.

"Me too," nodded Livingston.

Danny grinned widely. "Why?"

The three of them exchanged a long look. "He's . . . " Livingston began finally.

"He is," Basher said definitely, and then frowned.

"And he'd . . . " Turk shrugged.

"Thanks, guys," Rusty smiled.

Danny laughed. "Don't know if it was a compliment."

"All right, Virgil," Turk said with a grin. "Who'd you choose."

Virgil didn't hesitate. "Yen." And as Turk blinked at him. "He's a contortionist, remember?"

Yen, who had been staring at his fingernails in abstracted fascination looked up at the sound of his name. He clearly hadn't been listening.

"Virgil wants to sleep with you," Rusty explained.

Yen blinked for a moment, then laughed and made a number of interesting suggestions.

Virgil suddenly looked like he was less than sure of himself. "Okay, well, yes, Danny and Rusty haven't chosen yet."

"Little obvious who they're going to choose, isn't it?" Turk pointed out.

Virgil shrugged and turned to face them. "So who - "

" - Rus'", Danny said, at the exact same moment that Rusty said " - Livingston."

There was a pause and they turned to face each other and exchanged a very long and somewhat bemused look.

"Like you'd still respect me in the morning," Rusty said finally.

Danny grinned. "What makes you think I respect you now?"

Linus sighed. "There's absolutely no chance of alien sex pollen turning up, is there?"

Rusty shrugged. "You never know."

* * *

**Thanks for reading**


	21. Loyalty

**Couple of very short things that are together only because they have the same title. First one is ridiculous and definitely falls under the heading of "This never happened". Second one is slightly different. **

* * *

**Loyalty (1)**

*

Boredom, as ever, was the enemy. That was why Linus had borrowed Livingston's laptop, that was why the twins had ended up reading his email over his shoulder, and that was why the mockery he'd initially gotten for being sent a link to a "Which Hogwarts House are you in?" quiz had quickly turned into a fight over who got to try it next.

Linus was in Slytherin and feeling smug about it. He'd had to cheat a little in order to get the right answers, but cunning and resourceful, that was where he wanted to be. Probably. The twins were bickering about both being in Gryffindor – apparently Turk had copied Virgil's answers. No mean feat. Turk had gone first.

"Danny, take a shot," Linus demanded eagerly.

Danny looked over and smiled. "What are we talking about?"

"It's a Hogwarts Sorting test," Livingston explained, relinquishing his seat eagerly. Apparently tests made him queasy. And he was a Ravenclaw.

"Hogwarts?" Danny sounded completely puzzled.

Linus blinked. "You must have heard of it."

Danny grinned and shrugged. "No."

"The school in Harry Potter," Rusty explained, unmoving from his position stretched out over the sofa. He seemed to be trying to take up as much space as possible. Linus would have sworn he was asleep.

Danny looked round. "The kids' books?"

"Mmmm," Rusty agreed.

"When would I have had time to - "

" - well, you could have - "

" - I _could _have done an advanced degree in English Literature. Doesn't mean I did," Danny finished and Rusty didn't say anything else. Danny frowned. "Anyway, when did you - "

Rusty's arm was over his face but the grin was still visible. " - you know how much a first edition goes for these days?"

With an amused shake of his head, Danny sat down at the computer and quickly ran through the test. Linus looked over his shoulder and blinked as the answer came up.

"You're in _Hufflepuff,_" he crowed.

Danny twisted round and looked at him. "Take it that's not good?"

Turk grinned. "They're the losers," he explained.

"Their mascot is a badger!" Virgil exclaimed, apparently thinking it was relevant.

"They're just sort of average and unexceptional," Livingston added. "The leftovers go there."

Danny didn't look especially bothered. Or especially interested.

"They're useless," Linus said with a broad smile. In some strange way he was enjoying this. He really was bored. "They're all about hard work and being nice and playing fair. And you're one of them."

"Actually, their main character trait is loyalty," Rusty said quietly, his arm still over his face.

There was silence.

Danny grinned happily.

"Oh, come _on," _Linus protested. "You can't make something cool just like that!"

Livingston sighed. "Yes. Yes they can."

Danny grinned a little more and quickly ran through the test again. "Rusty, you're with me," he announced happily.

Rusty looked over at him and smiled. "Obviously."

Linus ground his teeth. Not fair.

* * *

**Loyalty (2)**

***  
**

Tess didn't know the details but she knew there'd been trouble. No one had died, no one had even been hurt but when Danny had made a point of telling her that, she'd known that it had been a possibility.

She didn't know the details. Danny had got a phone call and he'd smiled the smile that meant he was holding back an avalanche of anger and he'd said that he needed to go and do a friend a favour and she'd held him close and she'd held him tight and she'd made him look her in the eyes and promise to be careful and he'd smiled the smile that meant he loved her and she'd been swept off her feet and there were probably a thousand movies that it reminded Danny of. It reminded Tess of her life.

She didn't know the details but she'd spent a week wondering and worrying before she'd got the phone call to say that it was all over and the good guys had won and there'd been a celebration at Reuben's and Danny had wanted her there.

He'd picked her up from the airport and he'd seemed happy and she knew how pleased he'd been to see her, but she'd recognised the look in his eyes and the tightness in his mouth, and she'd seen the complete exhaustion and the residue of fear and misery, and she understood that he needed her and she understood that she wasn't the only one he needed and she'd held him close and tight and she hadn't said anything when he drove just a little too fast back to Reuben's and she hadn't said anything when he'd held her hand as if he never wanted to let it go and led her through the house until he found Rusty and it was only when they were both there that she saw him begin to relax. She didn't say anything. She didn't know the details.

Later, when they were back home, when they were alone and he wasn't playing for a crowd, she would ask him, and later he would tell her or he wouldn't. In some strange way it didn't matter. The love and comfort was there for him regardless. Always would be.

In the meantime there was a party and over the hours, somewhere along the lines, she'd got separated from Danny and had ended up following Linus all over the house, looking for a piano that he swore was somewhere. Why he wanted a piano was beyond her. Why he didn't just ask Reuben even more so. Why Reuben's house had quite so many doors was probably beyond everyone.

She paused with him outside a lattice door. "Let's try here," he suggested and he opened it and then, with a look of panic, closed it quickly. "Oh, Jesus! Sorry." He stood in front of the door and looked down the corridor. "Okay, no piano there. Let's move on because there's definitely a piano here and it's definitely not there."

Frowning, she reached past him, opened the door and looked over his shoulder. He cringed "Tess . . . " he warned.

Looking into the room the first thing she saw was a sofa and Danny and Rusty curled up on it, asleep. Danny's head was on Rusty's shoulder. Rusty's hand was clasped between both of Danny's. They were smiling and they looked peaceful, and considering that earlier they'd both looked as if they'd never even heard of sleep, she felt something lighten in her chest. Still. She wondered if she should wake them. Probably there were more comfortable places to sleep. She looked again. Maybe, right now, there weren't.

As quietly as she could she closed the door over.

"I'm sure they just fell asleep," Linus blurted out.

Tess looked at him strangely. "Yes," she agreed. That was obvious.

Linus swallowed. "I mean, I'm sure they weren't doing anything."

She blinked. "Doing anythi . . . do you think I'm going to get _jealous?_" she asked incredulously. "Do you think I'm going to start thinking that Danny's sleeping with Rusty?" The idea was as ludicrous as always. She looked closer at him and saw the faint blush and the way he wouldn't meet her eyes. "_You_ think they're sleeping together," she stated, with vivid astonishment.

"No!" He shook his head frantically. "Well, I mean, they're . . . but I'm sure they don't . . . and . . "

"You really think that they're having an affair," she reiterated with disbelief. "Have you _met _my husband? Have you met Rusty?"

She stared at him until he squeaked an affirmative.

"And you haven't noticed that he – they - are loyal to the point of insanity?" She didn't need to know the details to know that. "You haven't noticed that he'd rather die than betray someone he cares about. They care about," she corrected, because it wasn't as if she didn't know both of them.

"Well, yes, but, I mean - " Linus stammered.

" - Danny wouldn't do that," Tess interrupted him, low and fierce because she could handle the assumptions and the accusations, was used to them, but not from their friends. "Danny would never do that. I worry about Danny getting caught, I worry about Danny getting hurt. I never worry about Danny betraying me."

Linus looked somewhat ashamed and Tess began to wonder.

"Did you come up with this theory on your own," she asked cautiously. "Or did it have a little help?"

"I never really thought that they were," Linus defended. "It's just that they . . . they've got a vibe. And . . . " he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, back towards the room where Danny and Rusty were sleeping.

Tess nodded and sighed. "You mean they were playing in front of you."

"They were playing me?" Linus asked. His eyes were wide and she felt like smiling and wondered if he'd ever get used to that.

"I think so," she told him and her eyes narrowed. Oh, they'd almost-agreed to stop doing that. At least in front of people she was likely to meet. She smiled. "They're in trouble when they wake up."

Linus looked a little terrified.

Still. She'd let them sleep for now.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. Least it was more cheerful than VK, right? **


	22. Lost in translation

**Yes, two chapters of this story in two days. Hope you don't mind.**

**

* * *

  
**

"What's he saying?"

"I don't know."

"He seems upset."

"Angry. He's spitting on his fruit."

"Yeah. So what's he saying?"

"I don't know. I don't speak the language."

"You speak twelve languages - "

" - eight - "

" - so why not this one?"

"Tell me what 'this one' is and we'll talk."

"Tell me what country we're in and I'll tell you what language they speak."

"Right. Right. So if I were to say we were in Fiji you'd tell me what language they speak there?"

" . . . Fijish?"

" . . . "

" . . . "

"What? You think I know the right answer?"

"_Are_ we in Fiji?"

"We're definitely somewhere."

"Comforting."

"He really does seem upset."

"Angry."

"Yeah."

"You sure you don't know what he's saying?"

"Wait . . .wait . . .I've got it. He doesn't like your shoes."

"My shoes."

"Yep. Hates them."

"That what he's upset about?"

"Probably not. I wouldn't know. _I don't speak the language."_

"Actually, I'm not wearing shoes."

"So you're not. Maybe that's what he's angry about."

"You think so?"

"Could be. What did you say to him?"

"Not sure."

"What did you do to him then?"

"It's not really clear."

"I see."

"Whatever it was, I think it was a bad idea."

"There are no bad ideas. Only opportunities well disguised."

"You been breaking into fortune cookies again?"

"It's possible."

"Rus'."

"Yeah?"

"The well-disguised opportunity has a sword."

"I feel I should be saying . . . the seagull flies low over Krakow tonight."

"Rus'. The angry man with the fruit has a sword."

"Oh. Right. You think we should try - "

" - running. Way ahead of you."

"No you're not. Keep up."

"Well, I'm not wearing shoes."

"You know, it's more of a knife than a sword."

"It's long and sharp. I don't want to quibble over the details."

"When do you ever?"

"Ow!"

"What?"

"It's fine. Keep running."

"Danny?"

"I'm fine. He hit me with a lemon."

"He . . ."

"_Stop laughing."_

"He hit you - "

" - with a lemon. Yes."

"What _did_ you do to him?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"Well, when life gives you lemons - "

" - Duck!"

"Duck with lemon?"

"Actually that was a watermelon."

"Huh."

"Damn, I've got some on my tux."

"Look out!"

"Ooof!"

"Ow!"

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Gonna get off me?"

"Okay. Gonna get up?"

"Tricky."

"Here."

"Thanks. What did I run into?"

"Him."

"Oh. Nice hat."

"Actually I think that's a policeman."

"Looks like a hat."

"Look further down."

"Oh. Right. He doesn't look happy."

"No."

"No. And there seem to be more of him than there are of us."

"Yeah."

"Are we in trouble?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Right . . . Excuse us, sir, we didn't mean to run into you. I'm afraid this is all a massive misunderstanding. You see, my friend and I - "

" - Danny, he doesn't understand you."

"Yeah. You?"

"I don't understand you either."

"I meant do you want to give it a go."

"You remember the part where I don't speak the language?"

"Still?"

"It takes longer than that to learn."

"It didn't in - "

" - no, it just turned out that one of them spoke . . _oh_. Oh, okay."

"Now we're there."

"Excusez-moi? . . .Excúseme? . . . Entschuldigen Sie bitte? . . . Извините меня? . . . Scusilo? . . . Desculpe-me? . . .劳驾？. . . "

"I need a better translator."

"I need someone who knows where we are and isn't offensive to men with swords and fruit."

"Oh, here we go."

"What are they doing?"

"At a guess, reading us our rights. You need to get arrested more often."

"I need to _what?" _

_[Tinny ringtone version of 'Don't you want me?']_

"You're actually going to answer that? Now?"

"Hey, Reuben, what's up? . . Yeah? Day after tomorrow? . . . Who's all going to be there . . . uh huh. Well, that could be a little tricky, actually."

"You think?"

"Shush. No, not you Reuben. Danny. Yeah, he's here . . . being arrested, actually."

"Rusty. The cops are looking nervous."

"No . . . no, seriously, there is no problem. We're just being arrested. . . . No, we haven't done anything wrong. Well, this half of us hasn't . . . Nah, it's okay. It looks like the sword-fruit man is being arrested too . . . No, I can't actually tell you where we are . . . No, I mean I don't know."

"Fiji."

"Probably not Fiji . . .Yeah . . .Yeah, we've been drinking a little."

"How did he know?"

"Listen, Reuben, I'd better go. We'll maybe see you in a couple of days . . Yeah . . yeah, we'll try . . I'll tell him. Bye."

"Tell me what?"

"Reuben says you need to stop leading me astray."

"He did not say that! What did he really say?"

"Not to annoy men bearing fruit."

"Rus' . . ."

"He just said hi."

"Oh. Somehow that's an anticlimax."

"Yeah. Sorry. Built it up too much. We arrested yet?"

"Think so . . . huh."

"What?"

"The little one's got his hand on his nightstick. You sure you haven't been here before? . . . What?"

"So many ways of taking that sentence."

"Uh huh. You don't stop smiling like that we're going to be arrested for public indecency too."

"There is no way that smiling constitutes public indecency."

"When it's you?"

"Huh. Think he wants us to follow him."

"We should?"

"We should. Bring the lemon."

"Right. There might be gin."

* * *

**For anyone who doesn't already know, there's a fic challenge up on the forum and we're looking for randomish words, initially. Please go along and contribute. You know. If you want to. ;)**


	23. Light Entertainment

**Incredibly short piece of randomness written largely in response to discussion of similar incident in Russell Howard's stand up act.**

**WARNING!: Seriously, do not try this at home. I mean, I really want to, but I'm absolutely certain that its a bad idea. And I really, really think that no one else should. And if you do, the consequences aren't my fault. And if you do . . . let me know how it turns out. And whether or not its true at all.**

**  
A/N: If you're interested, and maybe just to amuse you with mental image, the sound effects were created by me sticking my fist in my mouth, saying the lines I wanted out loud, and transcribing as best I could. Research, man.  
**

* * *

Danny looked at the twins carefully. The important thing – the crucial, vital, absolutely essential thing here – was not to laugh. He was a professional, he was slightly in charge of this band of idiots, and that meant not laughing at them. Not even a little bit. Not even a giggle. Oh, hell, this wasn't fair.

Turk and Virgil each had a lightbulb in their mouth.

He took a calming breath. He wasn't going to laugh at them. "So, what happened?"

They gave him a joint look that was full of hatred and blame and threats of imminent death and he blinked. Whatever had happened, it couldn't be his fault. Couldn't be anywhere near being his fault. There was no way, he hadn't even seen them all day. There was no one single, solitary reason for them to blame . . . ahhh. Rusty.

"He told you that it was possible for a person to put a lightbulb in their mouth, but once it was in there, it's impossible to get out," he said calmly. He'd heard that one before.

They nodded, balefully.

"And you tried it," he added.

"Eh," said Turk.

_Yes_, Danny translated in his head.

"Ee a uhkin _aaa-ad _an ee ow-in oo ill iih," Virgil expanded further.

_He's a fucking bastard and we're going to kill him, _Danny figured and he nodded. "What did you do to him?" he asked.

The explanation that followed took a while. A long while. Danny had to ask them to repeat themselves a couple of times. And basically it came down to the fact that they hadn't done anything to Rusty. But they had, possibly, upset Livingston a little when, in an attempt to hack their way into VIP tickets at the Monster Jam World Finals, they had given Livingston's computers – all of them – what sounded to Danny like the technical equivalent of the Black Death.

He looked at them with a little less sympathy. "Well, that's what happens," he explained. "Think you're going to need to go to the Emergency Room."

They nodded and shuffled out, looking woebegone. Once he was sure they were gone, he put his head down and started sniggering. Oh, that had been a sight you didn't see very often.

A second later the door open and Linus walked in. With a lightbulb in his mouth.

Danny blinked and composed himself. "What seems to be the trouble, kid?" he asked, and his voice gave nothing away.

Linus glared at him. "I aa a igh uh ih aye ow," he snapped. Tried to snap. Really, in the circumstances, it was more of a mumble.

Danny nodded wisely. "You mean you have a lightbulb in your mouth," he repeated.

"Eh! I aa a igh uh ih aye ow!" Linus agreed. "Ah ih aww oo aul."

Danny nodded again. Once again, he was getting the blame. Made him wonder just where precisely Rusty was in all this. "Been talking to Rusty?" he asked.

"Eh!" Linus nodded frantically and started the long explanation, gesturing with his hands. "I aw Ur a Ir-ih ah ey a - "

"You saw Turk and Virgil and they had lightbulbs in their mouths," Danny stated. He could already see what had happened. In a very real way, he wished that he wasn't able to see what had happened, but he was stuck with his instincts and he was stuck with his friends, and above all, always, always, always, he was stuck with his Rusty. "And you asked them why - "

" - Eh!" Linus agreed, and Danny wished he wouldn't.

" - and you didn't really understand the explanation," Probably _mostly _because of the lightbulbs. Could just be because of the twins. "And so you went and asked Rusty." And Rusty had maybe given a half second thought to whether or not he should. Maybe.

Linus looked like he wanted to agree. Or cry. Or hit someone.

Danny sighed. "You're going to have to go to the ER," he explained. "Now." And this was the important part. "Where, exactly, is Rusty?"

"Ee h-iy-eh oo oh oo ooo-ohn ih Au," Linus tried.

Took a few moments for Danny to get it. Took a few moments for him to understand. "He decided to go to Houston with Saul?" he repeated incredulously, and maybe there was a bit of an edge to his voice, from the way Linus stepped back. But Rusty had done _this _and then blithely walked off, leaving Danny to stay and not laugh? Oh. Oh, that wasn't nice. That wasn't nice at all. There were going to be consequences.

He smiled broadly. "Linus," he said happily. "I wonder if you considered just how Rusty came to know for a fact that it's impossible to remove a lightbulb from your mouth?"

Linus' eyes widened.

Oh that would do.

For a start, anyway.


	24. Buckaroo

**Thanks to InSilva, as this was mostly her suggestion, following a discussion about the latest chapter of 'Falling like Dominoes'**

* * *

Terry had been having a good day right up until lunchtime when Simon, his head of security, approached him nervously and told him that Ocean, Ryan and Caldwell had checked in to the Bellagio – under their own names, no less! - and were currently sitting at the best table in Sensi having lunch.

Really, that was the sort of news that would ruin anyone's day.

He took the opportunity to seek a report from the maître d' and watched them carefully out of the corner of his eye. They were laughing with each other, having a good time, _plotting,_and the table was covered with empty glasses and half finished plates of food. It looked suspiciously as if they'd ordered everything on the menu. Well, that was good. As long as they stuck to eating, drinking, and being sociable idiots, he wouldn't have a problem.

* * *

"All I'm saying," Linus explained, emphatically and apropos of precisely nothing, "Is that we were lucky that Florentine didn't check his pockets. I mean, if he saw that I'd palmed the Gymkhana rosette onto him, we'd have been in trouble."

Rusty paused in the process of eating a spoonful of something swirled with almonds, blueberries and cream. "Would have been difficult to explain," he agreed.

"Impossible," Danny nodded.

Rusty considered. "Well, he could have said - "

" - with a straight face?" Danny frowned. "Unlikely."

"Yeah," Linus nodded, not really listening. "But he could have noticed at any time. I still say it was risky."

"I think people notice less than you think," Danny argued lazily, taking the cherry out of Rusty's drink and popping it in his mouth.

Rusty cast him a sideways glance and, with a quick stab of his fork, stole a forkful of Danny's tiramisu. "Uh huh," he nodded. "You'd be amazed at how much you can get away with planting on people."

Linus looked sceptical. "Oh, I doubt it."

"We could prove it," Danny said, with a shrug, delicately dropping the cherry stalk into a napkin.

"How?" Linus blinked.

There was a pause, and then as one they turned their heads and looked at Terry.

* * *

Terry left the restaurant, told all his people to be on the highest possible state of alert, and went about his day to day business with only the slightest feeling of dread. They weren't necessarily planning on anything. (_Except they always were._) And even if they were, well, he was smarter than they were. Better than they were. They wouldn't necessarily make a fool out of him. (_Except they always did._)

He should have stayed in bed.

* * *

Up in Danny's room the three of them stood around the table considering.

"So what are we using?" Linus asked eagerly.

Danny grinned. "What have we got in our pockets - "

" - precious?" Rusty muttered. The other two ignored him.

"We're going to plant _our _stuff on Terry?" Linus asked.

"Well. Not wallets or phones or anything like that," Danny clarified.

"But anything - "

" - everything - "

" - else," Rusty finished.

A couple of minutes later they were looking at a random pile of stuff. Chewing gum, the remains of a fake chin, a bottle of aspirin, a fifty dollar bill, sunglasses, a comb, a Twinky, a mirror, a packet of goldfish crackers, a streetmap of downtown Buenos Aires, a length of copper wire, a couple of Hershey bars and a Cadbury's Cream Egg."

Linus stared from the pile to Danny. "You carry a mirror in your pocket? And a comb?"

"Just in case," Danny nodded.

"Cos heaven forbid his hair should fall out of place," Rusty offered.

Linus stared at Rusty instead. "You know Shania Twain songs?"

Danny shrugged. "He knows that one."

* * *

Terry stepped out of the back of the casino to see Ocean leaning against the bank of slot machines, grinning at him. He resisted the urge to walk back through the door and instead calmly walked up to Ocean.

"I don't know what you're doing here," he said with quiet menace. "But as long as you're here, I'll hold you responsible for any unusual occurrences. Do you understand me?"

Ocean nodded thoughtfully. "I'm just here to do some gambling," he claimed with a smile, dropping a chip into the slot machine behind him. Annoyingly, it spilled out a load of chips. "Would you look at that?" Ocean said, with an annoying lack of wonder in his voice.

Terry brushed past him, stupidly checking the machine for any obvious signs of cheating. Of course there was nothing. His machines couldn't be tampered with so easily. "Congratulations," he said blankly and fixed Ocean with a steely gaze. "This was your warning. I will not give you another."

Somehow, Ocean didn't look impressed.

* * *

"So far so good," Danny said. He didn't look happy.

"What's the problem?" Linus demanded.

Danny sighed. "I liked those sunglasses."

Rusty unwrapped the Cream Egg and carefully nibbled off the top, before plunging his tongue in and lapping at the fondant, his lips brushing against the thick chocolate.

Linus really did try not to stare. He wasn't entirely successful.

Danny sighed again. "Weren't you supposed to be planting that on Terry?" he demanded.

Rusty looked up, his mouth sticky. "He doesn't deserve it."

* * *

Striding through the crowds of people on his way to meet with an important guest in the high rollers room, Terry came face to face with Caldwell, who was even more stunned than he was and looked it. He smirked as Caldwell jumped about six inches in the air and dropped the papers he was holding, and Terry got plenty of opportunity to study them when he bent down to help Caldwell pick them up. Not that it helped. Sheets of scrawled numbers and he couldn't guess at the significance. Not that that was going to stop him trying. With any luck this would put him a step ahead.

* * *

"Nice," Rusty grinned.

Linus looked puzzled. "What were those numbers?"

Rusty shrugged. "Phone numbers. Carefully selected pizza delivery in cities in fifty states plus Canada, South America and half of Europe."

"You need to get out more," Linus told him seriously after a moment's reflection.

Danny was frowning. "You planted the fifty dollar bill that time? "

"Yeah," Linus nodded.

"Huh." Danny looked thoughtful. "You realise you just _gave _money to Terry Benedict."

Rusty pursed his lips. "That's got to be against the natural order of things."

* * *

Walking out of the high roller room, Terry almost fell over a man with a bad comb-over and an expensive suit who was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily and unevenly.

"Sir? Are you all right?" he asked cautiously. Last thing he wanted was an incident. Or a lawsuit.

The man glanced up at him and smiled tremulously. "Yes, thank you. I'm just not used to all this excitement. I'll be fine in a moment."

Terry nodded and watched as the man stood upright, swayed for a moment, then stumbled against him. Cursing, Terry caught him and signalled a nearby security guard to take care of the situation.

He had more important things to do. Like finding out what Ocean, Ryan and Caldwell were up to.

* * *

"Oh, that's cheating_,"_ Linus glared.

"Cheating?" Rusty blinked innocently.

"Using the wig!" Linus paused. "How did you even put that together at short notice anyway?"

Rusty shrugged and grinned and said nothing.

"It's _cheating," _Linus repeated himself indignantly.

"What's the point in playing if you're not going to cheat?" Rusty asked, with what sounded like genuine puzzlement.

Linus opened his mouth and Danny hastily leaned over. "Don't," he advised. "Just don't even start."

With a sigh, Linus nodded and shut up.

* * *

For the rest of the day, every time Terry turned around, one or more of the three of them seemed to be at his elbow. Always perfectly justified, always with an excuse, with a rational explanation, never actually doing anything. But _there_. He didn't like it, and it wasn't paranoia when they were always out to get you.

He was going to need to get into this. He was going to need to phone round all his allies and contacts – everyone he knew, if necessary. Bribe, threaten, _ask. _He needed to know just what it was that he didn't know. And he needed to know it as soon as possible.

First, a drink, and he stood at the bar, signalled the bartender, reached into his pocket and instead of his wallet he found himself pulling out an unfamiliar pair of sunglasses and a Hershey bar. What?

With growing feelings of unease, bafflement and total bewilderment, he started to pat himself down in earnest. There was a comb in his waistcoat pocket, a mirror and a fifty dollar bill in the pocket of his pants, something strange, flesh-coloured and rubbery actually stuck to his shirt, a folded up map and a packet of goldfish crackers stapled to the inside lining of his jacket, chewing gum stuck to the back of his collar, a twinky bar poking out of the turn-up of his pants, and a length of copper wire wound round his waistcoat buttons.

_What? _

He looked up in time to see Ocean, Ryan and Caldwell, gathered together in the door of the bar, grinning, and then just like that, they were gone.

_What. The. Hell? _

He really should have stayed in bed.

* * *

Later, and Danny, Rusty and Linus were sitting in the bar at the Midas, sipping whisky and trying not to laugh too much.

After a while, Reuben joined them. "You been having fun today?" he asked in a voice laden with meaning and amusement.

Danny looked at him. "Some," he allowed.

"Right," Reuben nodded. "You going to tell me what I don't know about?"

"What don't you know about?" Linus asked.

Reuben sat down beside them. "I don't know why Terry is calling anyone who'll listen and demanding to know what our plans are."

"We don't have any plans," Danny pointed out.

Rusty shrugged and took a drink. "Well, _I _plan - "

" - later," Danny interrupted firmly.

"You up to something?" Reuben demanded.

"Reuben!" Danny sounded wounded. "We're _never_ up to something."

"You're never not up to something," Rusty corrected.

Danny blinked. "Since when am I a solo act?"

"We were just playing a game," Linus cut in hastily. "With Benedict. Except he didn't know it."

"Right." Reuben grinned and leaned forwards. "What kind of game? And who won?"

They paused and looked at each other.

"Oh, we really need to get the rules clearer," Danny said finally.

"Next time," Linus grinned.


	25. Getting Up and Getting Even

**Short, silly and full of sound effects. **

* * *

***Knocking***

" . . . "

***Louder knocking***

" . . . fuck."

***Really loud knocking***

"_What?" _

"Trick or Treat?"

"You think I'm going to share any of my candy with you?"

"Rus' . . ."

"It's three o'clock in the morning, Danny."

"Yeah."

"It's not even Halloween."

"Well . . . "

"You're not even wearing a costume."

"True."

"You're not even wearing _anything."_

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Oh, it stuck out."

"Did it?"

"Just a little. So, you're naked outside my door at three o'clock in the morning and it isn't even Halloween."

"Oh, you've got a great grasp of the obvious there. Nice to see your attention to detail hasn't deserted you in your old age, whatever - "

***SLAM***

" . . . "

"Fuck."

" . . . "

"Rus'?"

*Knocking*

" . . . "

"Rusty?"

*Urgent knocking*

" . . . "

"Come on, Rus', this isn't . . . . _thank _you."

". . . "

"You shut the door in my face."

"Not your _face."_

"Oh, you're - "

" - You forgotten the part where I'm not talking to you?"

"That was three hours ago. I'm not forgiven yet?"

"For the Toblerone? For the digital camera and the roller skates? For telling Basher the story about Kiki? For my _car?_"

"That really was an accident."

"No, you're not forgiven yet."

"Can I at least come in?"

"No."

"You know, there's a difference between not talking to someone and leaving them naked in a corridor. You should really look into it."

"Look into _what_ exactly?"

"That does it. I'm not talking to you, either."

"Could you guys possibly keep the noise down? Some of us are trying to . .. oh, sweet Jesus!"

***SLAM***

"Huh."

"Right."

"Think you've scarred him for life."

"Or longer."

"You shouldn't have turned round"

"Because that's the problem we've got here."

"What 'we'? There is no 'we'. There will continue to be no 'we' for at least another twenty minutes."

"Seriously, I'm sorry about your car. But the rest was completely - "

" - justified? What did - "

" - oh, so the towels were nothing, right? And the stuff on my phone? And telling Livingston about - "

" - well, since you sabotaged my - "

" - none of this would have happened if you hadn't told everyone I broke the polygraph while I was trying to grope - "

" - you were being over-enthusiastic!"

" . . . "

" . . . "

"That it?"

"Think so."

"Am I forgiven yet?"

"Uh huh."

" . . . wait. _When _was I forgiven?"

"Pretty much the moment I looked through the spyhole and saw you - "

" - so all this making me stand naked in the corridor has just been for your twisted pleasure then?"

"Yeah."

"See, this is why people wonder about us."

"Trust me, people stopped wondering a long time ago. Drink?"

"Thanks. Can I get some clothes now? I want to get dressed before I go tell Linus we weren't doing what he thinks we were doing."

"Exactly what do you think he thinks we're doing?"

"What do you _think _I think he thinks we're doing?"

"What were you doing?"

"Well - "

" - here. Shirt, pants."

"Underwear?"

"No. Terry still has it."

"He doesn't . . .fine. Is this the only shirt you've - "

" - what?"

"Never mind."

"Good."

"Still a little pissed at me then."

"I'll get over it."

"Who knew fire extinguishers would react like that?"

"Least we know what to do if we ever need to - "

" - Ghostbusters. Yeah."

"Why are you naked again?"

"It was an accident."

"You accidentally took off your clothes?"

"No. What do I look like. You?"

"Hey, just because you're wearing the clothes . . . "

"I was sleeping naked because it was too hot. I wound up in the corridor because - "

" - you opened the wrong door?"

"Glad to see you've cheered up a bit."

"At what point did you realise?"

"A second after the door shut behind me."

"And you didn't have anything to - "

" - you miss the part where I was naked?"

"You should always be prepared."

"See, now I'm having all kinds of thoughts and questions that I could really do without."

"Suppose you want me to help you get back into your room?"

"It's that or I keep the shirt. You think it's me, by the way?"

"No."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Come on, let's go get your door open."

***SLAM***

"Rus'?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember to pick up your room key?"

"Fuck."

"Well, guess that's two doors we have to get open."

"We'll start with yours. Make us think we're getting somewhere."

"Would be a nice change."

"You worried about - "

" - yeah."

"Huh."

" . . .What?"

"Never mind."

"_What?"_

"It's nothing."

"What should I be worried about?"

"In Terry's hotel? There's always someone watching."

" . . . fuck."

"Yeah."

"I mean . . . _fuck."_

"Yeah."

"Terry's seen me naked."

"No."

"No?"

"No. It's three o'clock in the morning, remember? He'll be asleep. He won't get to see you naked until tomorrow."

"Terry Benedict is going to see me naked."

"Hey, you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

" . . . "

"What, I'm just saying. You have a nice body."

"I have a fantastic body."

"Sure."

"What?"

"Nothing. I mean, a lot of women like love handles."

"Love ha . . . oh, that's it. You want to take your shirt off right now, we'll soon see . . . fuck."

"I can't help it."

"Yeah, but it's . . . wait. What's that?"

"What?"

"The scar, Captain Kirk. The scar. Looks like a burn. You didn't have that the last time I saw you naked."

"Well, that was - "

" - three weeks ago, after Basher set fire to the pool. How the hell did you manage to . . . when you were in Chicago, right? That's the only time you've been out of my sight."

"Yeah."

"Rus'?"

"Danny?"

"Should I be planning on killing someone right now?"

"Popcorn kettle."

"Really."

"Yes."

" . .. really?"

"It was a really big popcorn kettle, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"And apparently the oil to corn ratios are stricter than you'd imagine. And there for a reason."

"Any casualties?"

"Just me and my pride."

"Seriously. Love handles?"

"No. You're fine. You're perfect."

"Thanks."

"Like I said, you have a nice body. I'm sure Terry will appreciate it."

"Oh, that's so not happening."

"Seriously guys, I am trying to sleep here, so whatever you're doing that I don't want to know about it, could you do it quieter? Or someplace else? Like Nantucket?"

"There was a young man from - "

" -no, Rus'."

"I could rhyme that one."

"Everyone can rhyme that one."

"Mine had a good bit in the middle."

"Really?"

"There was ice-cream and chocolate sauce."

"Are we still talking about limericks?"

"Linus, you can take your hands away from your eyes now."

"He's decent?"

"Well he's wearing clothes."

"Okay . . . Danny?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Are you wearing Rusty's shirt? It's just that it's really tight. And it's kind of marigold and shimmery and see-through and ugly."

" . . . "

" . . . "

"Sorry. I'm really tired."

"Linus, we're going to go and wipe out some footage from Terry's CCTV system before Terry gets to see it - "

" - and maybe get some ice-cream - "

" - Would you care to join us?"

"Somehow, I'm not feeling like I have a choice."

"That's the way it goes."

"We'll need to wake Livingston."

"Yeah. He'll be upset if we go for ice-cream without him."


	26. Fear and Profiteroles

**Short! Nonsense! Surprisingly slashy! **

* * *

The room was dark when Rusty stumbled through the door and the light didn't come on when he hit the switch. Huh. That was strange. And annoying. He'd been staring at the outside of the museum for hours now – until long after it got dark and he couldn't actually see it. Staring at the outside, visualising the inside, desperately hoping for inspiration to strike. Now he wanted to check over the plans and see if somehow he'd slipped into a parallel dimension within the last eight hours or so, one where the plans would tell him that the crawl space beneath the Special Exhibition Centre was another two inches wide.

There was no sign of Danny, he realised, and he really shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't as if Danny had been lazing around the past week or so. Probably Danny had gone off to attend to one of the thousand and ten things that they'd need to get resolved as soon as he had this nagging detail sorted. Or else, he thought, with a pang of guilt, Danny had simply gone back to his own room, some eight hours after Rusty had muttered something about wanting to see a window and drifted off without a backward glance. Possibly Danny had gone to get some sleep. He'd gone back to quietly suggesting that sleep was important.

He couldn't suppress the yawn at the thought and his eyes _ached_. Okay. It was possible that Danny had a point. But they didn't have time for him to do anything but think. They had barely a week left before the jewels were moved and really, unless he could come up with some way of getting the mannequins inside, they were sunk.

He blinked into the darkness. There was something bothering him. Something wrong with this picture. The room was dark. The lights weren't working – and that was strange for a start – but there _was _a light coming from somewhere. Frowning, he moved further into the room and discovered that the television was on, static crackling across the screen.

Oh.

Oh, that was strange.

He hadn't left the TV on, he was sure of that. And he didn't think that Danny had either – when he'd left, Danny had been eyeball deep, busy learning everything he'd need to know in order to pass himself off as an archaeologist to Ms Liebermann. Unless, maybe, he'd decided to watch 'Indiana Jones' instead? It could happen.

Moving closer, he discovered that not only had the TV been left on, there was a VCR attached. A VCR that hadn't been there before he left. A VCR with a typed note lying on top of it. "Do not press play."

He checked. There was a tape in the machine.

A chill ran down his spine. This couldn't be good. This could not be good in any world, surely. A mysterious tape that someone wanted him to see, or didn't want him to see. No Danny. _No Danny. _A thousand scenarios crashed through his mind, a thousand dreadful possibilities, a thousand unthinkable visions. When he pressed play his hand was shaking.

The static on the screen gave way to a different shade of static. Indistinct figures moved through the mist, swaying and looming ominously at the camera. There was no sound. There was no sound and he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking at. Didn't know what he was supposed to be doing and he leaned in, desperate to make any kind of sense of it, and suddenly the semblance of a face pressed up against the screen and there was a dull, eerie, keening scream.

He bit his tongue, stopped the stream of exclamation that threatened to skip from his lips and the tape came to an end and the phone rang, sudden and shrill in the silence.

He answered quickly and stood, listening to a wild crackling and the distorted sound of breathing.

"_You're going to die in seven days," _a hoarse voice whispered finally and he stood, staring in disbelief at the phone.

What . . . ?

This couldn't be happening. This was insane. This was completely . . .

The same, low, keening scream suddenly echoed through the room, and he jumped and swore and looked round wildly. That had come from _inside _the room. Somewhere near the door. He peered into the darkness. Fuck, he couldn't see a thing. He didn't even know what he was looking for and nevertheless, he was kind of wishing he had some kind of weapon. Or, failing that, that jumping out the window was an option here. Creeping forwards, towards the door, he stepped on something.

He picked it up.

Danny's cell phone.

Danny's cell phone which had just been called from Danny's room.

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long, shaky breath. Oh, Danny was a dead man.

*

When he marched into Danny's room, Danny was lying on the sofa, reading a magazine. Rusty couldn't help noticing that there was a camcorder on the table.

He leaned back against the door pointedly and waited.

"It says here," Danny began conversationally, reading from his magazine, "That sleep deprivation can lead to stress, headaches, irritability, impaired motor skills, hallucinations and emotional problems. And tiredness." He looked up. "That's a little like having a 'May contain nuts' message on a packet of peanuts, right?"

"Peanuts technically aren't nuts," Rusty told him. "They're legumes. Like peas."

Danny frowned. "Pretty sure that peas wouldn't taste right dipped in chocolate."

Oh, he could imagine that taste. He really, really wished he couldn't. "So, I'm guessing that you think that making me think that I've been marked for death by a girl who lives in a well would help me sleep?" he asked with a tight smile.

"Don't think she _lived _exactly," Danny pointed out. "And if nothing else it should make you think twice before falling down wells."

"I don't make a habit of it anyway," Rusty explained through gritted teeth.

Danny looked at him. "Montana?"

"One time is not a habit," Rusty said firmly. "And I didn't exactly fall."

"No. You didn't, did you?" Danny conceded with a grimace.

Rusty decided to change the subject. Or at least get it back on track. "But really, you think that trying to scare me to death is the way to lull me to sleep?"

Danny shrugged. "I've tried everything else."

He shook his head. "Oh, you'd better - "

" - over there." Danny nodded towards a room service trolley, pleasantly covered in dishes.

Rusty grinned and wandered over to investigate. He lifted the covers up. Huh. Strawberries. Chocolate mousse. Ice cream smothered with caramel sauce. A massive pile of profiteroles. A tray of truffles. _Huh _. . .

Danny came up behind him. "I've got a bottle of wine too," he said happily.

"Really?" Rusty turned round slowly, and Danny's eyes were full of intense amusement and suggestion. "So, when you said you'd tried everything - "

" - I always have more ideas," Danny smiled, and he leaned in and kissed Rusty, a slow burning fire, a wave of meaning and passion, and the world compressed into this one, single, perfect moment.

Finally, they broke apart momentarily, and Danny licked his lips. "Just trying to distract you from your impending doom."

Impending . . . expected. If the mannequins were expected, if the museum had been dogged by calls about the delivery of a shipment of mannequins, it wouldn't be about trying to disguise them on the day, it would be agreeing to take them off the museums hands, and they could . . .

Danny was staring at him. "_No_," he objected. "Rusty . . . "

He smiled, almost apologetically. "I need to - "

" - yeah," Danny sighed heavily. "Yeah."

He grabbed the profiteroles and collapsed onto the sofa, closed his eyes and watched the plan unfold in his own head.

After a moment Danny settled down beside him. "The things I put up with."

Rusty didn't open his eyes. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"I hope Samara gets you," Danny said sulkily.

"Eat your profiteroles," Rusty advised.


	27. Zero Hour

**Short. Really, really short. Little scene that absolutely refused to be a fic and that I'm almost embarassed to post. And yet I am.**

* * *

The plan was in ruins. The contingency plan had failed. All that was left was this, and he wouldn't even call it a plan, not really. It was desperation and stupidity and one last stand, and at the end, it had to be Rusty. No one else could do it.

He watched Rusty standing in the doorway, looking at him through half-closed eyes, and it was memory and it was sorry and it was goodbye.

Two steps and he was in the doorway. Two steps and his arms were wrapped around Rusty. Two steps and his mouth was on Rusty's and it was desperation and stupidity and memory and goodbye and passion and fire and possession, and hands were everywhere and he heard Linus gasp and he heard Yen muttering and still he didn't stop because this was them and he didn't care who saw it.

They broke apart. There was confusion in Rusty's eyes – thirty years and they'd never . . . never even thought . . . but there was no _time_ and with a nod, Rusty was gone.

He turned back into the corridor, ignored the looks, ignored all the looks, and he told the others to run and keep running and soon enough the sky caught fire and the rain was salt on his face.

Against all odds, against all logic, against everything the world stood for, there was a later.

"Why?" Rusty asked him presently, two days and five countries later, and he could still smell the smoke, and he held the burned hands as gently as he could and pretended he couldn't feel the pain.

"So you could ask that," he said simply. "So you'd make sure to come back."

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then he nodded and burrowed deeper into the blankets, turning his face away.

Danny watched him for a little while. "You don't get to leave me," he whispered.

* * *

**Told you it was short. Should've said it was a poem.  
**


	28. Hitchhiker

**Third story in as many days. Please note this is not AU and nor is it angst. At this stage, feel I should get points for that.**

* * *

This was shaping up to be one of the very worst days of Terry's life. He could tell that by the way that Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan were involved.

Breaking down in the middle of the desert was never fun. Breaking down in the middle of the desert when he was by himself and his phone had died some time previously was worse, and he'd been standing stiffly by the roadside, calculating the odds on him dying of thirst versus the odds on being picked up by someone who'd just lost their life-savings in his casinos when the sky had darkened worryingly and the first distant rumble of thunder had been heard.

That had been when the flashy convertible had drifted up at speed. That had been when Danny Ocean had smiled out at him over his sunglasses. "Morning, Terry."

"Hi there," Ryan had grinned from behind the wheel. "Can we offer you a lift?"

He stared at them. "Keep driving," he told them. He'd never needed that much help.

That was when the first lightning bolt struck a billboard maybe half a mile further down the road. The flames were quite impressive.

Smartly, he leapt into the back seat, daring them to say a word.

They didn't. They ignored him completely. Which didn't help.

"Think you should put the roof up, Rus'," Ocean said seriously as the car sped off.

"We're young, we're free - don't you want to feel the wind in your hair?" Ryan shouted back over the sound of the engine, batting his eyelashes at Ocean ridiculously.

Terry had never yet been able to figure out whether Ocean and Ryan actually _were_ sleeping together. Everyone he'd ever asked had just descended into helpless giggles. It was very off-putting. And not a little annoying.

"I don't want to feel the lightning in my hair," Ocean explained.

"Right," Ryan nodded seriously. "With that amount of product, it'd go up like wheat."

"Uh huh. You want to compare time spent in front of the mirror? Or are you saying that you just roll out of bed and look like that naturally."

There was a pause and the two men stared at each other.

"Fuck," Ocean sighed at last.

Ryan grinned and a second later the metal roof rolled up.

"So, Terry," Ocean said conversationally, and paused when a crack of thunder punctuated his words. "You heading anywhere in particular?"

"None of your business," he snapped.

Ocean sighed. "Terry," Another crack of thunder. "We're giving you a lift. It helps if we know where to."

"Oh." He scowled. "The Bellagio." At this stage, with them involved, he just wanted to head home, stick his head under the duvet and hope for a friendly apocalypse.

"Oh, good," Ryan called out cheerfully. "That's where we're staying."

He groaned. Loudly.

Ocean regarded him seriously. "Think you've upset him a bit."

"Who?" Ryan asked without looking round.

"Terry," Ocean said to the sound of yet more thunder.

Ocean and Ryan stared at each other for a long moment. "Rusty," Ocean said eventually. "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I _think_ so, Danny," Ryan said gravely. "But where would we get enough Coca Cola to _fill _the Grand Canyon."

"_Not _that," Ocean said with exaggerated patience. Then he hesitated. "Though bear it in mind. Just in case - "

" - Canada _does_ ever invade," Ryan nodded earnestly, taking a corner that wasn't strictly speaking there with a degree of unwarranted nonchalance that had Terry reaching out for the nearest support. Which turned out to mean clutching at Ocean's arm. The look of amusement that he got was more than any man could reasonably bear. He was going to need to kill someone.

"Right," Ocean grinned, turning back to look at Ryan. "I was more thinking about Frau Blucher."

Ryan laughed. "Terrrry," he said slowly and experimentally and the lightning crashed across the desert.

He gritted his teeth at the sound of delighted laughter.

"So Terry's the bad guy," Ocean shouted over the predictable crash of thunder.

That really wasn't on. "I'm the only one in this car who's not a criminal," he snapped.

"Terry, Terry, Terry," Ocean sighed and the lightning was getting really annoying. "We're not in a heist movie right now."

"It's a horror movie," Ryan expounded. "And you're the bad guy. The sound effects are a big clue."

"Yeah," Ocean nodded. "And what's Rule 48 of surviving a horror movie?"

"Don't be blond," Ryan said promptly.

Ocean grimaced. "Rule 49?" he guessed.

"Ohhh .. . Never pick up hitchhikers," Ryan nodded. "Though Rule 50 is never hitch a ride. And Rule 51 is never wait for a tow truck."

"So, really, the trick is to just lock yourself up somewhere and hope for the best," Ocean pondered.

"Uh uh." Ryan shook his head definitely. "Final Destination."

"Damn," Ocean said regretfully.

Terry felt like screaming. So he did.

The car swerved across the road. "Fuck," Ryan commented calmly after a second.

"Careful," Ocean told him dryly.

"Don't worry. A car's the safest place to be in a thunderstorm," Ryan offered.

"Only from the lightning, Rus'," Ocean said patiently. "It doesn't count if you crash."

"Not so sure that counts for convertibles, anyway," Ryan pondered.

"What?" Terry demanded, sitting forwards.

Ryan looked over his shoulder. "Well, the idea is the body of the car acts as a Faraday cage. And the roof comes down in this." His finger hovered over the button as if to demonstrate, until Ocean grabbed his hand and placed it firmly back on the wheel, to Terry's immense relief. "So I don't know if it works the same way. Don't know if anyone's ever tested it."

"We're not going to," Ocean said firmly. "You and Bash want to go do something stupid on your own time, feel free."

Ryan pouted and Terry felt a strange kind of fascinated horror. "You'd send me out to do something stupid by myself?"

Ocean sighed. "Well, I suppose I'd have to come along. Just to make sure that you and Basher didn't burn down – "

" - one time," Ryan interrupted insistently. "One time that happened."

"Your memory giving up in your old age?" Ocean demanded.

"Two times," Ryan corrected without skipping a beat. "Three at the absolute most."

"But we could be burned to a crisp at any moment?" Terry checked, steering the conversation back to what he considered the salient point.

Ryan shrugged. "Possibly. I really don't know."

"Surely the safest place to be in a thunderstorm is in another country entirely," Ocean mused.

"Just keep driving," Terry ordered, leaning back in the seat.

Ocean and Ryan looked at each other for a long moment. "He must get back to the castle before nightfall," they said, in unison and in bad accents and the lightning hit the road immediately in front of them.

More laughter. He found himself wondering if they had a deathwish. It might explain a lot, actually. _He_ wouldn't be so anxious to get on his bad side if he were them. Though if he were them, he'd be better at it. Naturally. He'd realise that life wasn't some ridiculous game, and that certainly there was no point in wandering round in a permanent state of laughter, making jokes and obscure movie references. If he were them, he'd be subtle and discreet at all times. Careful. No one would ever know he'd stolen anything. And he'd know who should be treated with respect; who was far too dangerous to have as an enemy. He wouldn't be _them. _He'd be clever and professional and serious and he wouldn't waste time working with other thieves. He'd always be in charge, and people would respect him, fear him, like they should. Not like the way Ocean was with his compatriots. Teasing and jokes and mockery. That was no way to be a leader.

Ocean was grinning at him, and he suddenly realised that it was remotely possible that he had, in fact, been muttering to himself. "What?" he hissed menacingly.

"Nothing, Terry," Ocean said and frowned in sudden alarm.

"What is it?" he demanded, fearing sudden disaster.

"No lightning that time," Ocean announced disappointedly.

"I don't like it," Ryan said grimly. "It's quiet. A little too quiet."

Ocean stared. "You're thinking that the storm is going to sneak up on us?"

"Or we're going to sneak up on it," Ryan nodded. "Whichever way it works out."

Terry ground his teeth. "Are we there yet?" he asked and calmed himself over the chorus of laughter by planning exactly what he was going to do to them as soon as he got a chance. And just because it would never work out the way he planned, didn't mean that it wasn't the perfect way to relax.

"Actually,_ are _ we there yet?" Ocean wondered.

"There's a light," Ryan said suddenly, pointing down to their left.

"Over at the Frankenstein place?" Ocean checked, to Terry's supreme bewilderment.

"Nah. It must be the Stratosphere Tower," Ryan said. "Well. That or I've been going entirely the wrong way and it's the Space Needle."

"How lost would you have to be . . .?" Terry blinked and cursed himself for even _thinking_ about joining in.

"Oh, it could happen," Ryan said darkly. "To him," he added, pointing at Ocean.

"This is madness," he muttered more to himself than anyone else.

"Madness?" Ocean grinned. "This. Is. Sparta."

Ryan looked round with a remarkably contrived expression of bafflement. "Then we're _really_ lost."

With an audible groan, Terry leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and waited patiently for death to claim him. It would be preferable. Anything would be preferable than being stuck in a confined space with these . . . these . .. _halfwits._

"Think you broke him," Ryan muttered.

He said nothing. He said nothing for the next fifteen minutes while in front of him conversation ranged through the location of the moon, the faking of Australia, the question of whether enough penguins could carry a polar bear and whether or not there was, or ever had been, cocaine in coca cola. He was beyond caring. Far, far beyond caring.

"Terry?" Ocean said, as the car drifted to a halt. "We're here."

He opened his eyes and was delighted to realise they'd stopped outside the Bellagio. Finally. Home sweet home. Home sweet home where he had many, many discreetly armed and well-muscled staff who could take care of any niggling little annoying problems he might have.

With that thought firmly in his mind, he stepped out of the car and smiled sweetly. "Thank you. For the lift."

"You're welcome," Ocean smirked. "We're going to Reuben's. We'd ask you to come too, but - "

" - oh, a phenomenally - " Ryan nodded.

Ocean turned to face him. " - not that it isn't - "

" - well, they don't, do they?" Ryan asked.

"Not since they stopped serving toast on the monorail," Ocean agreed finally.

The car wandered off, and Terry was left staring after it, experiencing the headache he always seemed to get in the face of a world that he didn't want to understand.

Briskly, he walked up the steps. "Good morning, Mr Benedict," the doorman greeted him. There was a peal of thunder the instant the man said his name. He took a deep breath. The doorman frowned. "Mr Benedict?" Another thunderclap. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course," he smiled distantly. "I'm just going inside."

"Sure thing Mr Benedict," the doorman said cheerfully to the sound of distant thunder.

Terry went upstairs to plan the apocalypse.


	29. You know you watch too many movies when

**Random things There may be more of them some day. There probably won't be.**

* * *

**You know you watch too many movies _when..._**

**_

* * *

_**

**...your obsession annoys your friends.**

Basher carefully - very, very carefully - measured out a couple of drops of paste around the door of the fake vault and took a step back to admire his handiwork. He thought that should do more than nicely.

"So this stuff's new?" Rusty asked, looking over his shoulder with interest.

"Yeah," Basher nodded. "Mate of mine nicked it from a lab in Turin. Just need to get the quantities right. Make sure I'm using enough. Apparently you only need a dollop."

"That a technical term?" Danny chimed in.

Basher glanced at him and started sorting through the wires. "Right," he said at last. "Might want to step back for this bit, gentlemen."

They climbed a little way up the stairs to the basement. Basher lit the fuse with a flourish and turned back to grin at them. Danny was smiling, but Rusty was looking through the email from Chaz with a frown. "Hey, Bash. These measurements in metric or imperial?"

Basher's grin froze. "Run?" he suggested.

There was a mad stampede up the stairs and they all hit the ground an instant before the explosion roared through their skulls and the house shook to its core.

Eventually the dust settled and they crept down to the basement to have a look. There wasn't much left. Of the basement. There was _nothing_ left of the vault.

He could _feel _them looking at him. "Don't say it," he warned intently. "I swear you bastards say it and I'm not going to be responsible for what happens next."

He turned round just in time to catch the long and considering look that passed between them.

"You were only supposed - "

" - to blow the bloody doors off."

He took a deep breath. Started counting to ten. Got as far as three. "I'm going to _kill_ you, you bloody, piss-taking wankers!"

They were already running.

* * *

**...obscure trivia makes you happy**

"Okay, okay," Danny frowned. "Harrison Ford."

"Easy," Rusty grinned. "Two."

"Show your working," Danny demanded.

"'American Graffiti' with Joe Spano who's in 'Frost/Nixon' with - "

" - Kevin Bacon. Damn," Danny grimaced.

"Yeah. Points to me." Rusty grinned. "Okay. Val Kilmer."

"Ohhh...." Danny thought for a long time.

Long enough that Linus _had _to interrupt. "What, exactly, are you doing?"

"Everything comes back to Kevin Bacon," Rusty explained.

Seeing the look on his face, Danny expounded further. "You've got to see how few connections you can make between any given actor and Kevin Bacon by - "

" - what movies they've been in together," Rusty finished.

"Right," Danny nodded. "And Val Kilmer is two. Rance Howard. 'The Missing' and also 'Frost/Nixon'. Was anyone _not _in that by the way?"

"I wasn't," Rusty pointed out.

"That's _stupid," _Linus burst out.

"Well, I'd probably have done it if they'd asked me," Rusty told him, after a moment's consideration.

"Not that," Linus glared. "The whole thing. Is stupid."

Danny wasn't listening. "Guess it's just one of those movies that casts as much of the A-list as possible, in the hope that something good happens."

Rusty was looking thoughtful. "You know, that whole thing in Europe...you could say that Linus was working with Bruce Willis."

"You could," Danny said after a moment, nodding happily. "You definitely could. And that gives him - "

" - a Bacon number of three," Rusty said cheerfully. "That's quite impressive, kid."

Danny frowned. "You going through 'Hart's War' or 'Twelve Monkeys'?"

Linus decided to leave the room as quietly as possible.

"You know, Hitler's got a Bacon number of three," he heard Rusty say, and he closed the door firmly behind them. He didn't quite resist the urge to lock it.

* * *

**...you find yourself planning your real life round what's showing.**

"So that's a go for Saturday?" Danny asked, glancing back at Rusty who nodded.

Linus frowned. "Wait, wait, why Saturday? The sooner the better, right? We should make it Friday."

There was an awkward silence. "Friday's no good," Rusty said eventually.

Linus frowned a little harder. "Well, why not? You got a date?"

The silence grew a little more awkward. "Well - " Danny began, and looked at Rusty who shrugged.

"I suppose - "

" - in a manner of speaking - "

" - No?"

Linus blinked.

Reuben took a puff of his cigar. "They've got tickets for the premiere of the new James Bond."

Danny and Rusty both stared at him. Linus stared at them.

Saul scoffed openly. "What, you think no-one ever noticed that you haven't missed one since Roger Moore?"

"We missed 'The World is not Enough'" Rusty commented absently, and Danny shot him an apologetic look.

"You weren't exactly missing much," Basher pointed out.

"True," Livingston agreed.

"We're scheduling the job round your movie obsession?" Linus squeaked and last.

Rusty shrugged. "I wouldn't say - "

" - I would," Danny admitted.

Linus shook his head. "How did you manage to get tickets anyway?" There was a pause. They both grinned at him. His eyes widened. "Oh! Right."

* * *

**...everything reminds you of a movie.**

Somewhere in this stupid house there was a secret passage that led to a hidden vault. This was absolutely beyond question; the two second glimpse of the plans Rusty had managed to grab had made that abundantly clear. Unfortunately the two second glimpse had not, apparently, been enough for him to actually _see_ all the plans and, despite Danny being unreasonable and Reuben suggesting hypnosis, Rusty maintained that he couldn't remember what he hadn't known in the first place. And what he hadn't known, seemingly included the location of the entrance of the passageway.

Still, they had three hours clear. They were bound to find it before Sam Drake came back from his court case. Bound to.

Linus was searching the study, along with Danny and Rusty. He'd been following wires, on the basis that the passageway must have power, and had been somewhat disappointed to suddenly realise that the wires were, in fact, connected to the burglar alarm which was no longer connected to anything. Rusty was staring at the ceiling with an expression of abstracted concentration. The idea that he might be thinking about lunch had occurred to Linus several times. Danny was just wandering around tapping absently at the walls. Rusty had already claimed that he had no idea what he was listening for. Danny said it was an echo. Rusty had laughed and said something about bunnymen that Linus didn't understand in the slightest.

But he was pretty used to that now.

Grimly, he started following a new set of wires.

"_Danny,"_ Rusty breathed suddenly, in hushed tones of surprise and delight.

Linus looked up sharply. Somehow, he doubted that could bode well for the universe. Or at least for anyone in the immediate vicinity.

Rusty was standing staring at the bookcase, an awed smile shining on his face.

Danny walked up slowly and sighed. "You've got to be kidding me," he complained.

Rusty nodded fervently. "I'm going to _marry_ Sam Drake," he announced.

Linus blinked hard and pretended that he hadn't heard that. "Uh, guys?" he began. "What - "

Ignoring him, Rusty leaned out and carefully picked out a candle from the decorative wall mounting beside the bookcase. Immediately, and to Linus' astonishment and bewilderment, the bookcase swung round 180 degrees at breakneck speed, to reveal an identical bookcase on the other side.

Danny grinned. "_I'm_ going to marry Sam Drake," he proclaimed.

Looking round sharply, Rusty frowned. "I saw him first," he protested and Linus was a little worried by the sincerity in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Danny waved a hand dismissively and his smile was positively evil. "Put. The candle. Back."

Rusty did. The bookcase swivelled round again and they both stepped back sharply. Rusty frowned harder. "There's got to be some rule that says when your friend is eying a guy - "

" - a morally-bankrupt PR guy who we're trying to steal from," Linus corrected. He was ignored. Again.

" - doesn't apply," Danny said shaking his head at Rusty. "Not when there's - "

Rusty glared. " - there is no Mel Brooks exemption to common - "

" - you don't have _any _decency, common or otherwise, and I'm marrying Sam Drake."

"What?" Basher demanded, having come in at an inopportune moment.

"Danny and Rusty have found it," Linus explained.

"You don't even like guys," Rusty pointed out, glaring at Danny. "There must be another - "

" - switch, yeah," Danny nodded. "And I'm open-minded. There are things I'm willing to change about myself."

"Or lost it," Linus added with a grimace.

"Yeah," Basher nodded, wide-eyed. "It's definitely here, though?"

"There's a revolving bookcase," Linus told him.

"Really?" Basher sounded faintly disbelieving.

Danny turned round and grinned at him. "Remove the candle!" he ordered Rusty and the four of them watched as the bookcase span round at lightning speed.

"Damn," Basher commented.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "We're going to marry Sam Drake. Put the candle back," he added to Rusty.

Rusty did so and scowled. "_We_ aren't going to marry Sam Drake. _I'm_ going to marry Sam Drake."

"Whatever happened to sharing?" Danny demanded and some things Linus had an almost unbelievably overwhelming urge not to know about.

"I'm going to go let everyone else know," Basher said, and beat a hasty retreat.

Linus glared after him. "Coward!" he called.

"There must be another switch," Rusty muttered, frowning at the bookcase. "You think - "

" - the books," Danny nodded. "If it's not the candle - "

" - right," Rusty agreed. "And have you forgotten the part where you're already married? Don't think Tess is going to appreciate it when you explain - "

" - And Isabel's going to be overjoyed, I suppose," Danny cut in. He blinked. "Have you _noticed _our future husband's taste in books?"

"The Marquis de Sade next to A. A. Milne? Yeah. I noticed. And Isabel will understand."

"She'll understand," Danny said flatly.

"Yes," Rusty nodded earnestly and Linus wouldn't be nearly so sure.

"She'll understand you leaving her for - "

" - our _mark,_" Linus pointed out, vaguely hoping that they'd remember this little fact.

"Yes!" Rusty said defiantly.

Linus snorted. "How much you want to bet on that?" he asked.

Danny stared at him. "You want to bet on whether or not Rusty's girlfriend leaves him?"

"Linus!" Livingston sounded shocked, and Linus turned to see that everyone else had wandered up.

"They want to marry Sam Drake!" he said, trying to defend himself. "Both of them. And that's got to be illegal!"

"Huh," Rusty said thoughtfully. "Jeffery Archer. Your future husband has bad taste in books, Danny."

"That bothers you and the Marquis de Sade didn't?" Danny frowned. "There's something very, very wrong with that, somehow."

"Well, it is Archer," Basher pointed out. "You figured out how to get this open yet?"

Danny leaned across and carefully pushed the spine of the Jeffery Archer novel inwards. This time the bookcase swung open and stayed that way. A long, dimly lit tunnel lay in front of them.

"I was half expecting a planning room and a load of Nazis," Linus muttered.

Danny and Rusty both turned and stared at him. "Linus," Danny sighed, shaking his head.

"That was a revolving _fireplace_," Rusty explained. "Different - "

" - oh, completely different feel," Danny nodded.

Reuben cleared his throat. "You want to move this along so we can get the money while we're still young enough to enjoy it?"

The three of them managed to look a little abashed, and they stepped forwards into the passageway.

"Still," Danny said thoughtfully. "Hidden vault, secret passageway, revolving bookcase - "

" - yeah," Rusty smiled. "I can live with the Marquis de Sade. I can even live with the Jeffery Archer. I'm going to _marry_ Sam Drake."

* * *

**Used the website for the Bacon number, I'm afraid. Can't work it out in my head.**


	30. On Strike

**Light, conversation....could almost make a good birthday present. If someone wanted it. ;) **

* * *

"Honey, I'm . . . huh."

"..."

"Rusty?"

"...."

"Rus'!"

"...wha'?"

"Nice to see you too."

"You're back."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Nothing gets past..."*yawn* "...me."

"Oh, no. You're not going back to sleep until we've talked."

"..."

"Rusty!"

"What?"

"Going to tell me why the vault plans are in several pieces all over the living room? And why the costumes are in a heap in the kitchen? And why every glass, mug and vase in the place is full of _something? _And why we seem to have acquired a shitload of electric fans?"

"You don't want to know why I'm naked?"

"You're always naked in my mind."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I don't know if that's what I meant."

"I don't know if that's _not_ what you meant."

"So?"

"I'm on strike."

"You're - "

" - on strike. Yes."

"...."

"I was going to get some placards. Maybe a picket line. Maybe a burning oildrum. But I got drunk, got naked and fell asleep instead."

"You're on strike."

"You've got it."

"...."

"You want to sit down?"

"Thanks. What's this?"

"Uh, sambuca, grapefruit juice, gin and cornflakes."

"..._What?"_

"We're out of whiskey."

"So - "

" - new drink. Yes."

"How does it taste?"

"I wouldn't."

"But you did."

"I did."

"And the rest of the glasses?"

"Anything that was in the cupboards."

"Don't you need to have, I don't know, a _boss _or something before you can be on strike?"

"Huh. You think so?"

"Pretty sure that's the way it works."

"Guess you'll have to do."

"...I'm your _boss_ now?"

"For my current purpose, yeah."

"I don't want to be in charge."

"At this stage in your life, you may have to accept it."

"Not of you. You-herding is clearly impossible."

"Get used to it. I can't rebel without an authority figure."

"Rebel against Saul."

"Do I look suicidal?"

"You look naked."

"Another reason why it has to be you."

"I'm the only one allowed to see you naked now?"

"You trying to say something?"

"Rus', everyone's seen you naked."

"No - "

" _- everyone._ More than once."

"Prove it."

"Well, I'm just guessing with Livingston, but unless he's either a lot less adventurous than I'd assumed...or a lot more kinky, I suppose. Guess outfits could have been - "

" - Danny, I think the heat fried your brain."

"Right ... Was I just speculating about - "

" - yes, you were."

"Okay...anyway, Reuben saw _both_ of us naked that time in Vegas."

"Which time in Vegas?"

"Oh _not _the time you're thinking of. The other. With - "

" - ostrich feathers. Right."

"Frank, Basher and Livingston all saw you naked when you were putting on that drysuit in Lake Calumet Harbour."

"What was wrong with that? We were on a time limit. They didn't need to look. Did I _make_ them look?"

"No, but you weren't even through the door before you were taking your clothes off. And then there was Yen and Linus in - "

" - _not _my fault."

"Right."

"Your fault, actually."

"Oh, I wasn't the one who said you should mix….actually, I wasn't even there!"

"That's why it was your fault.

"Oh, so now it's my job to make sure that you don't accidentally - "

" - yeah."

"Huh."

"And you're surprised by this?"

"Guess this is why I'm the boss."

"Right."

"So, just for the sake of argument, if in future I try and tell you to do something - "

" - oh, you'll get the same answer you always would."

"Right. So, there's no obvious advantage to me at all."

"Wanna join my strike?"

"Okay. What are our demands?"

"Oh, we're very demanding."

"_That_ I don't doubt. Seriously, what -"

" - rain."

"We're striking for rain?"

"Yes."

"_One_ of us has lost the plot."

"I'm _hot_, Danny."

"Everyone's seen that, too."

"Sure it's just _one_ of us?"

"So, your plan is to stop stealing shit until the weather gives in to your demands?"

"Yeah."

"Huh."

"It's _hot."_

"Right. And so, next week, when we meet the others, we're going to say what?"

"It's too hot to think. So we didn't."

"...."

"I can't make it work, Danny."

"You will."

"One of these days I won't."

"Never happened yet."

"See, _this _is why I'm on strike."

"What?"

"You take advantage of me."

"_What?"_

"Going to tell me where you've been?"

"I was...oh. Oh. You _know_ where I was."

"No shit."

"You can't be mad about this."

"Yes I can."

"Half of us is being irrational."

"Half of us nearly died!"

"Nothing happened."

"Right."

"Nothing _happened. _What, you want me to strip naked and prove that I'm not bleeding to death?"

"It would be a good start."

"Fine."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Satisfied?"

"What's that?"

"It's...oh, for fuck's sake."

"See?"

"It's a graze, Rus'. It's nothing. I fell off the kerb."

"...."

"Okay, so maybe someone pushed me. But it was an _accident_. Some kid on a bike. And it doesn't exactly count as a lifethreatening injury. You're being _irrational."_

"You're bleeding!"

"I am _not_. You don't think that you might be blowing this out of proportion?"

"Where were you, Danny?"

"St Louis."

"_Nothing _is out of proportion. You want to know how many times - "

" - this is completely ridiculous."

"..."

"..."

"You didn't tell me."

"Luc changed his mind about the meeting at the last moment. I didn't think."

"You didn't want me to be there too."

"..."

"Fuck."

"I _know _how many times. Think I'd forget?"

"You ever notice that Judy Garland pronounces it wrong? Lou-_ee_, not Lou-_is_."

"Meet me in St Lou-is, Lou-is? Couldn't sing that."

"_You _couldn't."

"I have a good singing voice!"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Anyway, you're an exhibitionist."

"You think?"

"You're naked right now."

"So are you."

"It's hot."

"It really is."

"Think I'm on strike."

"Thieves of the world unite. You have nothing to lose but your clothes."

"Think naked would be a good enough distraction for - "

" - need to wear ski-masks too."

"Almost be worth getting caught."

"Huh?"

"Imagine the identity parade."

"_Oh_. Oh, Usual Suspects has nothing on - "

" - exactly. Usual Suspects with nothing on."

"..."

"Did you fall asleep again?"

"No, I'm just ignoring you."

"Imagine my distress."

"It's too hot."

"You still on strike?"

"Mmm hmmm."

"You falling asleep on me?"

"Mmmm hmmm."

"You'd better not drool."

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow - "

" - I'll work for ice cream."

"It's starting to rain."

"..."

"Goodnight."


	31. Manners

**Anyone waiting on the next section of 'The more things change' should accept my apology and the information that the bloody thing keeps getting longer somehow. Anyone waiting on anything else should accept that I'm a little bit useless. Everything in time, I promise. Yes, even that before you say anything, mate. **

**Anyway. Short and pointlessish.  
**

* * *

Danny had gone to bed early, feeling prematurely middle-aged. Tess was out of town, buying a painting from a man in Atlanta to sell to a man in Zephyrhills. Rusty had a date. There were no jobs on the horizon. And, somehow, somewhere along the lines, that had left Danny having a nice hot bath and then lying in bed, sipping whiskey and watching endless reruns of 'I love Lucy' until he fell asleep.

He was woken just before midnight by the sound of someone breaking into his house. Remarkably unsubtly. He blinked and, half-awake, wondered. It could be someone looking for him, he supposed. Not that he knew of anyone who actively was...but they were the ones to watch out for. Or, he supposed, it could just be a very ironic housebreaker. Or...more awake, he listened intently and heard familiar footsteps heading unerringly for the kitchen. Grinning, Danny padded downstairs and stood in the doorway, watching Rusty rifling through his – Danny's – cupboards.

"Take it the date went well, then?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rusty stopped in the act of unwrapping a block of chocolate that Danny would need to replace before Tess got back. Not that he minded, of course. Either way, he never bought it for himself.

"I hate men," Rusty announced and he turned round, clearly intending to follow the thought up with something less sarcastic, but instead he ended up staring at Danny with an expression that slipped neatly between astonishment and amusement.

Danny glanced down at himself. Okay. Right. All he was wearing was a pair of too-tight pyjama pants of extremely dubious origin. This was what happened when he wasn't expecting to see anyone. He looked back up, lifting his chin challengingly, _daring _Rusty to say anything.

Rusty dared. Naturally, Rusty dared. "You didn't think about putting something else on before you came downstairs? Suppose I'd been a thief?"

That took a moment's consideration. "You _are _a thief," Danny pointed out at last.

"I don't need to take that from a man in tartan pants," Rusty said with a noticeable pout.

Grinning, Danny shook his head. "There was wine with dinner?"

"There was lots of wine," Rusty agreed. "No dinner though."

Danny blinked. "You were going to a restaurant," he pointed out.

Rusty stared at him. "You miss the part where I hate men now?"

"Ah," Danny nodded slowly. "There's ice cream in the freezer."

Rusty brightened up for the first time. "What flavour?"

A shrug and a moment's thought. "Mint choc chip. Cookie dough. Something else chocolatey with nuts in. And frozen banana yoghurt."

He enjoyed the flash of smile that headed his way and he watched as Rusty vanished into the depths of the freezer momentarily, before re-emerging with a variety of tubs. "Grab a couple of spoons, would you?"

"I'm getting some?" He grinned. "Date can't have been _that _bad then."

"Oh, it was. The tartan earns you some pity points," Rusty explained. "Wine in - "

" - yeah," Danny nodded and grabbed a couple of glasses and the corkscrew while he was about it.

A few minutes later and they were sitting in the living room, wineglasses in hand, ice cream on the sofa between them.

"So you want to talk about it?" Danny asked with a certain amount of irony.

"All men are bastards," Rusty said draining his glass quickly.

Danny blinked. "Huh. Feeling insulted."

"You don't count," Rusty explained.

"Now I'm feeling really insulted," Danny grinned. "Didn't you hate women last month?"

"Yeah," Rusty nodded, relaxed and comfortable and slightly drunk. "Still do. No more women. No more men."

"Mmmm." Danny considered. "Got to tell you, Rus'. I think animals are still illegal."

Rusty grinned. "Sick fuck," he commented amiably. "Maybe I'll try celibacy."

Danny frowned. "You're going to date a nun?"

"Or get married," Rusty nodded. "Heard that leads to wearing tartan and not having sex."

Danny scowled and then looked down at his pants. "To be honest, I think that Tess would ban these pants if she saw them."

Rusty's lips twitched.

Danny's scowl deepened. "_Not_ what I meant."

"But you set yourself up so nicely," Rusty said lightly.

"So. Date?" Danny pressed. "Guy in the suit. The one who - "

" - you said you couldn't see what I saw in him. Yeah," Rusty agreed with a sigh. "He really is good looking."

Not compared to Rusty, Danny thought. But the guy hadn't seemed to realised that. "And he knows it," Danny pointed out. "So what happened?"

Rusty shrugged. "Got to the restaurant. Things were going well enough. We were talking. Then he takes out his mobile and lays it on the table. Two minutes after that, he gets a phone call."

Danny frowned. "That's it? I know you've taken phone calls during dates before. At all stages." Normally he'd be the one calling. And normally it meant Rusty running off with a smile and an excuse, and it said something that Rusty would still get a second date, if he wanted.

"He didn't hang up," Rusty sighed. "He sat for over an hour talking on the phone while I spent his money on wine. Think he was trying to impress me with how important he was."

"Didn't the same thing happen a couple of months back with - "

" - Tammy Walker. Yeah. But that was for a job and we already knew she wasn't into - "

" - right," Danny nodded. "Still."

"I know." Rusty sighed again and there was a long pause.

"You ever think it might be you?" Danny asked, doing his best to keep his voice serious.

Rusty didn't crack a smile. "Uh huh," he said gloomily. He hesitated for an endless second and then looked up slowly, uncertainty on his face. "Danny? Do you think I'm boring?"

He stared for a long, long moment. But in the end _not _laughing proved impossible. "No," he said reassuringly, when he got to the stage where he could take a breath. "I don't think you're boring." Annoying, brilliant, frustrating, funny, willful and unpredictable. But never boring.

Rusty smiled slightly and got everything that Danny hadn't actually said. "It's just _rude,_" he complained.

Danny shrugged. "Maybe he just didn't like you like that."

"Oh, he liked me like that," Rusty assured him darkly. "Got that from the footsie under the table and the groping and the suggestion, once he was done with his phone calls, that since the kitchen was closed we could just head back to his place and he'd introduce me to a certain, special little friend of his."

Danny choked. "He did not say that!"

"He said exactly that," Rusty nodded.

"Well, what did - " Danny shook his head wonderingly.

" - said there was no need to wait that long," Rusty explained. "Told him to go to the restroom and wait for me. Then I added a few items to the bill and left."

"It's missing dinner that really offends you, isn't it?" Danny said after a second.

"Amaretto crème brulee, Danny. Some things are _important._"

Danny smiled and poured more wine.

"You know, he's a financial advisor," Rusty mused idly. "And apparently there's a whole lot of bearer bonds moving through his office right now. Of course, he's got a vault."

Danny looked at him.

"Of course, one of the things he might have told me and everyone else in the restaurant is the _code _for the vault," Rusty went on. "Not that I'm saying we should do anything about it."

"Of course not," Danny agreed.

"Dating is _expensive," _Rusty said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Dating _you_ is expensive," Danny corrected.

Rusty smiled slightly and reached for the ice cream. "Manners cost nothing."


	32. Psychic

**More fic. And why not? **

* * *

"But I'm not a _genuine _psychic," Linus protested, nervous and overwhelmed in the face of a ballroom full of serious men and women doing silly things. This had seemed like a brilliant, simple plan, right up until the point where it turned out to be completely insane.

"We know you're not a genuine psychic, Linus," Danny said patiently.

"You think you're the only fraud in this room?" Rusty asked, sweeping a hand round to indicate the entirety of the Las Vegas Fifth Annual Psychic, Medium and Clairvoyant Symposium. He looked a little more cheerful, at least. Earlier he'd been sulking because Danny wouldn't let him put stickers over the official posters saying '_Closed due to unforseen circumstances'._

Danny fixed Linus with a sincere look. "We trust you to be - "

" - a _much _better fraud - " Rusty nodded fervently.

" - good enough that Wilberforce Gollen will be - "

" - completely fooled - "

" - entranced - "

" - astonished - "

" - unable to resist," Danny finished firmly. "You can do this, Linus."

He glared at them. "I'm not going to fall for it." This time he'd be strong.

Reuben laughed and took a puff from his cigar. "Yes you are."

He sighed. "What happens if they rumble me?" he demanded, looking round at the assembled hordes of psychics.

Rusty shrugged. "What, you're afraid of this lot? What are they going to do? Put a curse on you?"

He smiled unwillingly, until Reuben frowned and pointed his cigar at him. "Don't laugh, I've seen it happen. I know one guy, he stiffed his psychic on a bill. Three weeks later, BAM!" He slammed his fist into his hand and Linus jumped.

"Bam?" he asked uneasily.

"Car crash," Reuben said in a hushed tone. "He lost a foot."

Linus stared down at his feet and swallowed hard. "Uh, guys? Is it too late to change my mind?"

"Yes," Rusty said definitely.

Danny frowned at Reuben. "You are not helping."

Reuben shrugged. "Who's trying to?"

"I _like_ both my feet," Linus explained apologetically.

Danny sighed. "Linus, there isn't a genuine psychic in this room. They're all con men."

"You don't know that," Reuben warned.

"Who do you think is going to get you?" Rusty demanded. "The man charming piranhas over there?"

Linus blinked and craned his neck to get a better look.

"The woman who can read your future in your feet?" Danny chimed in.

"The girl with the floating hairnet who tried to charge Danny seven hundred and forty dollars to defuse his aura?" Rusty asked and Linus smiled slightly.

"The man in the crocodile-skin pants who told Rusty that his Great Aunt Hattie was doing well, was very proud of him, and was looking down on him from heaven?" Danny added.

Linus frowned. "That _could _be true," he pointed out, mostly for the sake of the argument.

"Nah," Rusty shook his head seriously. "They'd never let her into heaven. She was a terrible woman. A monster. And she _always_ hated me."

Linus was staring and couldn't help it.

Danny rolled his eyes. "And slightly more relevantly, she was invented as part of a real estate scam in 1989."

"Oh," he sighed, relieved. He thought for a moment. "Suppose this would be a strange place to find a real psychic anyway."

They stared at him. "_Vegas?" _Danny demanded incredulously.

"If I was a psychic, I'd never leave," Rusty added.

Reuben snorted. "Like you need paranormal help to cheat."

Livingston's voice in their ears cut across the argument. "Guys, heads up. Gollen's car just pulled up. You've got ten minutes."

Too late to argue anymore. He sighed and put on his sunglasses and the others drifted purposefully away.

Ten minutes later and the great – and entirely fraudulent – Augustus Harrow had attracted quite a crowd, and Linus was actually enjoying himself. Using a mixture of cold reading, audience plants and Danny and Rusty lifting personal details and slipping him information, he had the audience eating out of the palm of his hands. Not that it was all to do with the cheating. A lot of it was down to his acting. He'd made Augustus....cool. Dark suit, dark shirt, dark tie and dark glasses. All unemotional and untouchable and uninvolved, supremely unruffled no matter how impossible it all was.

At the back of the room he saw Wilberforce Gollen stride into the room, followed by a woman ostentatiously holding a palm pilot and two men discreetly holding guns.

He turned his unflinching attention back to his audience, and fixed his eyes on a young estate agent in front of him. "I see a large sum of money," he said and she looked enthusiastic. "Seven hundred....no, seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars." It was a little over the asking price of one of the houses in her file. "I see water, a pool, and a man in a silk smoking jacket. I see...." He paused dramatically. "I see a red door."

From behind him, he heard Rusty's soft voice. "_And he wants it painted black," _and Danny's stifled laughter.

He ignored them. By this point he had a lot of practice.

Before he knew it Wilberforce Gollen was upon them, and there were dozens of people gathered round, hanging on his every word, and surely he was the most interesting thing in the room, and he was bound to be picked up, _bound _to be, and then Gollen swept past without giving him more than a cursory glance.

Fuck.

He didn't break character, even for a moment, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as Reuben walked up behind Danny and Rusty. "See, this is what happens when you don't take psychics seriously. Your karma is tainted."

"Our karma is _immaculate," _Danny and Rusty said in unison.

Impossibly, Wilberforce Gollen turned round. "Here! You two! How do you do that?"

"How do we do what?" DannyandRusty asked, without even the slightest hesitation.

Wilberforce Gollen stopped altogether and turned round, looking at Danny and Rusty like they were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Unbelievable. Just...unbelievable.

By the time he'd managed to bring his act to an end and join Reuben in the crowd around the three of them, Rusty was dealing cards and Danny was rhyming off each one before it fell. Linus couldn't help but remember that they'd taken three hundred dollars off him the other week.

Still. He found himself looking at the sheer wonder and disbelief in Gollen's eyes. He leaned in close to Reuben. "Danny and Rusty aren't _really _psychic, are they? It's all an act, right?"

Reuben gave him a look that was somewhere between amused and incredulous. But he was always going to wonder now. Damn.

* * *

**It could be that this story was _only _written in order to make use of the Worst Rolling Stones Joke Ever. **


	33. Danny's Luck

**A/N: Very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, _very _inspired by InSilva's 'Relationship Matters'. Thank you.**

**A/N2: There is a clue in the chapter title.  
**

* * *

There had been danger before, of course, more times than anyone would believe, probably more times than even they knew. And there had been violence before and even shooting. The hotel room and the men who came looking and the guns – none of it was new.

But this time was different.

Danny didn't hear the gunshot only the echoes. All he knew was that Rusty had been facing him, had been standing in front of him, pushing him out of the way, and then there had been an explosion of sorts and Danny was lying on the floor, on his back, and there was an arm flung limply across his chest, and there was...hot and wet and....on his face....there was blood...and bits of.... He opened his mouth to scream.

A second later there was the sound of sirens and feet hammering up the hallway and men shouting.

"The police! Fuck! Scarper!" one of the murderers shouted and they ran and Danny was alone in the hotel room, lying beneath what had used to be Rusty.

Another second and the world _breathed _and the room dissolved into nothing and rebuilt itself.

Tears still flowing, Danny looked round slowly. No blood. No sign that there'd ever been any kind of disturbance. In fact, the paint was even a shade or two brighter than it had been before, and the sofa had been reupholstered in leopard skin.

Rusty was standing next to the window and Danny looked him up and down anxiously. No sign of any injury. No blood, no nothing, and a moment ago he'd been lying on the floor with half his head blown off.

"Rus'," he started and he stepped forwards, and there were a thousand things that needed to be said right there and then, reassurance and promise and confession, but Rusty held up a hand, smiled sadly at him and vanished into thin air, just like he'd never been. "Rusty!" Danny screamed, but there was no answer.

* * *

He did some checking around. The police hadn't been here for them. Apparently they'd got a tip-off about a major drugs deal in the next room. What a coincidence.

* * *

Three months of searching and there was no sign of Rusty. And that was a problem. He honestly didn't know if it was still Rusty he was looking for. But they'd been together for so long, he was sure that he'd recognise Rusty no matter what he looked like.

He concentrated his search in casinos and dog tracks and low dives, and everywhere that men gathered to risk all their winnings on a single turn of pitch and toss. He moved across the country and then further afield, searching and desperate and he tried not to consider that he had the whole world to check.

From time to time he tried his own hand at gambling. He won every time and never needed to cheat.

Sometimes he felt Rusty's hand on his.

* * *

In Monte Carlo he caught a glimpse of gold across a crowded room and even though it was gone before he even blinked, he took the foolish risk. Found the most threatening man in the room. Took him for everything he had and a few things he hadn't. Stepped outside into the dark and the storm, and waited as the men came out of the shadows towards him; waited as they started punching, kicking; waited, knowing that they wouldn't stop.

When he was on the ground, when he was beginning to wonder if his most desperate shot just wasn't enough, when he was relaxing in the knowledge that there were still no regrets, the pain stopped and there was the sound of swearing and screaming and – squawking?

The men ran away. He sat up. "_Seagulls?" _he asked incredulously, staring down the street at the fleeing men and the white pursuing shapes.

"Very Hitchcock," Rusty agreed, stepping out of the shadows (_and he hadn't been there a moment ago_) and kneeling beside Danny. His hands were cool on forming bruises and the pain vanished like frost in the face of summer.

"Do seagulls even fly at night?" he asked uncertainly, and Rusty pulled him gently to his feet

"Those ones did. Fortunately for you," Rusty told him innocently.

Danny nodded and swallowed and leaned his head against Rusty's chest, and Rusty's arms were tight around him. "Don't leave again," he begged.

"Danny...." Rusty sighed.

"Don't you fucking leave me again," Danny said softly. "Please."

"Come on," Rusty said gently, and he led them back to Danny's hotel. They didn't say anything until they were safely in the room, until there was whiskey and Rusty had found some chocolate from somewhere, and they were sitting on the sofa, and everything was almost normal. Even then, there was silence for a while longer.

Danny stared at his glass. "Why did you go?"

"I had to. Danny, I'm not...." Rusty sighed and rubbed at his mouth. "My name's not Rusty Ryan,"

"I know," Danny said quietly, and he didn't even hesitate and he knew the name that Rusty didn't have.

"I'm not really thirty-nine years old," Rusty went on.

"Doesn't matter," Danny said firmly, and thought about time that couldn't be measured, time beyond meaning.

"Everything I ever told you about my life before we met was a lie," Rusty told him fiercely.

Danny nodded. "That's okay," he said and Rusty had never been able to lie to him anyway.

"I'm not _human, _Danny."

"Nobody's perfect," Danny said and his voice was calm.

There was a long silence. A very long silence. Mountains formed and crumbled to dust and still Rusty stared at him. "How long have you been waiting to say that?" he asked at last.

Awkwardly, Danny shrugged. "A while now."

"You knew - " Rusty began.

" - I knew," he agreed. "What, you thought you were subtle?"

"When?" Rusty demanded, and Danny could see the shock fading into amusement. There were reasons Rusty loved him, after all. Reasons that everything else that Rusty also was loved him.

"Six months after we met," he explained. "The Symington job. The door that shouldn't have been open. The fire. There was no way that we could have got out in time._ Really,_ no way. After that, I started watching. Paying attention to the little things." He paused. "You cheat."

Rusty grinned openly. "And this is news?" He turned serious. "Six months....wasn't long enough."

Danny nodded. "And, what, now you've had long enough?" (_Now you've had enough of me?)_

"No!" Rusty's denial was immediate and heartfelt and absolutely sincere.

"You left," Danny pointed out harshly.

Rusty closed his eyes. "I had to. I thought I had to. There are....there are rules, Danny."

"And you follow them?" he asked incredulously, before he could help himself.

"Mmm. Rules is the wrong word, perhaps." Rusty considered. "Facts, maybe. The equivalent for you might be, oh, gravity. Or needing oxygen."

Danny blinked. "You don't - "

" - I don't," Rusty confirmed.

"Huh." He thought about it for a moment. "You might have mentioned the whole gravity thing before we came up with the switch-and-scramble in Honduras."

He was rewarded with Rusty's smile. "If I'm human I'm supposed to limit myself to human capabilities," he explained. Danny looked sceptical. Rusty shrugged. "Mostly. And no one's supposed to know that I'm anything other than what I appear to be."

"But I've known for over twenty years," Danny said slowly.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed and looked amused. "You say I can't follow rules. You don't even understand you're breaking them." He shook his head. "Impossible," he muttered, and it was fond and it was loving and Danny smiled to hear it. "And you couldn't have mentioned that you already knew?"

He shrugged. "How was I supposed to do that?" he asked. "'Hey, Rusty, you want to order some pizza, oh, and by the way I know that you're the living personification of - '"

Rusty leapt across the sofa and put his hand firmly over Danny's mouth. " - _Don't," _he said urgently, wide-eyed. "Some unbreakable rules are more unbreakable than others."

He nodded slowly and apologised with his eyes and Rusty carefully took his hand away. Of course, he knew – every gambler knew – that . . . _some things _. . . were not to be relied on. Not to be named. But he relied on Rusty and that wasn't wrong.

"You figured it out that much," Rusty remarked, and it was pride and amusement.

"Uh huh," Danny nodded again and waited until Rusty had his glass to his mouth before casually adding. "Took a while, of course. At first I thought you were an angel."

Rusty choked on the whiskey. "You thought I was _what?" _

"Yeah." He grinned. "Had a nice little mental image of you with wings and a halo."

"Oh, that's..." Rusty shook his head. "There are times I do not believe you."

This was fun. "Then for a long time, I thought maybe you were, I don't know. A genie. Or a witch."

"That why you spent all that time in Texas, staring at my nose?" Rusty asked. "Because it don't wiggle for anyone."

"One of the reasons," he agreed, and Rusty regarded him with deep suspicion. He took a deep breath. "So we're all right now, yeah?" he asked hopefully. "You're not going to leave again?"

Rusty swung his legs up onto the sofa and sat, cross-legged, staring at Danny for a long time. "You know what I am," he stated.

Danny bit his lip hard. "It's not _what _you are I care about, it's _who _you are," he explained, softly, fiercely, intensely. "I want to spend the rest of my life with the person who is...who makes me feel...who.... You, Rus'. All I want is you. It's never been about what you can do." _It's about everything. _

They gazed at each other for a long time, and in spite of everything, nothing had changed. Nothing that mattered. "Gonna start singing Mariah Carey?" Rusty asked lightly.

"Not unless you get me a hell of a lot drunker," Danny assured him.

Rusty reached for the remote control and a few moments later Mel Gibson was drawing the last card of a Royal Flush in 'Maverick' and there was popcorn.

Danny looked at him in silence for a long moment.

"What?" Rusty asked without looking round.

"You know, I always used to figure that you were a lady."

There was a look. A definite look. And then a shrug. "Well, I figured since you're no gentleman...."

Danny continued to look innocently curious.

Rusty shook his head and grinned. "Technically speaking, I have no sex." Danny snorted and Rusty grinned some more. "In reality, I have quite a lot of it."

Danny laughed and they moved a little closer together, shoulders brushing and time-apart, confession and revelation; none of it mattered.

They lived securely in the impossible.


	34. The Outdoor Type

**For anyone and everyone who might have wanted something funny. Hopefully this is. **

**Title taken from a Frank Turner song. A good one. **

* * *

There were many things that Rusty could be complaining about right now. If he was so inclined. It was raining, the ground was hard, everything smelled of smoke, he was running dangerously low on snack food and he was sitting in a cramped tent with a Danny who was so far out of his comfort zone that Rusty figured he'd probably have to spontaneously evolve into a whole new man in order to cope.

"Fun," Danny said wildly. "You remember fun? Fun is what we could be having right now. Fun is what we _should _be having right now. Instead we're here. In a tent."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Keep your voice down," he warned softly. "You're supposed to love all this, remember? Ted's just next door - "

" - and the walls are _cloth. _I got it," Danny said with a definite glare. "Just so you know? I _don't _love all this."

"I'd never have guessed," Rusty said dryly and sighed. "You want Ted's money or not?"

Danny looked like he was actually seriously considering the question. Apparently camping was a step too far.

Rusty went on quickly. "Because either way we'll still be out here, you'll still be miserable and we'll still have hiked eighteen miles today."

"I know, I know." Danny shook his head impatiently. "_Hiking," _he complained, rubbing at his feet painfully._ "_I didn't even know I _could_ hike."

"I didn't know you could hike either," Rusty agreed innocently. Danny shot him a look and he shrugged.

"Like your feet aren't hurting just as much?" Danny pointed out through gritted teeth.

"I'm good," Rusty assured him, stretching his legs as surreptitiously as he could. Fuck, he hurt.

"Me too," Danny admitted and he wasn't answering what Rusty had said out loud. "There must be better ways to earn a living."

"Sure," Rusty agreed readily, reaching out and drawing Danny's feet up into his lap and starting to rub gently. "You could be an accountant."

"I _could _be an accountant," Danny nodded, apparently struck by this. "Nice little office, working nine to five, no one trying to kill me - "

" - unless you were a _really _bad at math - " Rusty interrupted, working his thumbs carefully down Danny's feet.

Danny moaned contentedly and ignored him, all at the same time. " - No problems that couldn't be solved with a calculator, no problems that necessitate a five day hike, no one setting fire to my shoes...."

Rusty sighed and the problem was, he really did feel a little guilty. Mostly annoyed, but definitely a _little _guilty. "I'm sorry. About your shoes. And about the hike."

Now Danny looked guilty. "S'okay. We need to get close to Ted before the opening. Just wish there was another way, that's all."

Rusty nodded. So did he. When they'd realised that Ted was going to be trying to be hiking through the Rockies right up until the night before, they'd figured that they'd have to abandon this one. There'd been a night of drinking and commiseration when he'd suddenly realised that instead of walking away, they could just _walk. _

It was a plan that had sounded much better when they were drunk. They simply weren't built for this.

"We're making progress though," Danny stated optimistically.

It was true though. Ted liked them, or at least liked the people they were pretending to be. They'd been exchanging pleasantries all day. Sharing jokes at the expense of Bernard, the insane tour guide. And Ted had helped Rusty build the campfire.

He winced as the dark look crossed Danny's face. "Yes. He did, didn't he?" Danny said slowly and he seemed to be considering whether or not losing his money was really enough punishment for Ted.

"Hey, I suffered too you know," Rusty pointed out quickly. "My marshmallows melted. And Bernard put out the fire before I could figure out how to make s'mores."

"What _is _a s'more?" Danny wondered, temporarily diverted.

"Something that's done round campfires," Rusty explained. "Think it involves chocolate."

"Sounds like some sort of menace from a Fifties B Movie. Some sort of amorphous, shapeshifting alien." Danny mused. "The s'mores came from another world. And....they _hunger." _

Rusty frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, think it could be some sort of sex position."

"_S'mores_?" Danny checked.

He nodded. "Think that's what she was saying anyway."

Danny grinned. "How many sexual positions involving chocolate do you know?"

"The only limit is imagination," he shrugged, full of mock dignity and pushing Danny's feet off his lap.

"That's a limit now?" Danny wondered, swinging his legs round casually and regarding his own feet woefully. "I _liked_ those shoes," he bemoaned.

Rusty sighed. "How was I supposed to know he didn't know what he was doing?"

Danny glared at him. "I would have thought the lighter fluid was a bit of a clue. And the gasoline."

"He seemed so confident," Rusty mused.

"So did you," Danny pointed out. "Right up until the explosion."

"It was _not _an explosion," Rusty said indignantly.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "It was - "

" - come on! We've seen explosions. Phil does explosions. Basher does explosions – whether you want him to or not, actually. This was just an overexcited fire."

"Right." Danny nodded. "Fine. So you both looked confident right up until the _overexcited fire_ with the _extremely enthusiastic flames_."

"I really am sorry about your shoes," Rusty said after a moment. "Look on the bright side though. Least you weren't wearing them."

"Uh huh." Danny grimaced but his lips were twitching. "Was kind of worth it to see the look on your face," he admitted. "Not seen you looking so flummoxed since Darcey took the wig off the poodle."

"Least I wasn't flapping my hands and screaming 'We're all going to die!'" Rusty pointed out. Bernard's contribution to the unemergency had been less than helpful.

Danny nodded seriously. "True. You a little worried that our tour guide doesn't keep his head in a crisis?"

"You expecting many crisisis?" Rusty wondered.

"Crises?" Danny suggested mildly. "Well, let's see. We're in the middle of nowhere. We're expected to sleep on the ground in sleeping bags. We need to walk about twenty miles a day every day for the next four days. I saw three spiders, two frogs and a snake while we were putting up our tent. It's raining so much that even Andie MacDowell would notice. Our tour guide is a man who believes that woolly socks can solve everything. Not to mention that he has an unhealthy fondness for lycra shorts and every time he sits down I see more than I care to. There's no booze and you're currently limited to the amount of junk food we can carry. Think that a crisis is only a matter of time."

"Three spiders, two frogs and a snake?" Rusty asked.

"Uh huh," Danny agreed, looking vaguely unsettlde.

"Think that's a foodchain," he noted.

Danny frowned. "Frogs eat spiders?"

Rusty nodded. "Or the other way around." He was easy on that point.

"Anyway, there's too much wildlife out here for my liking," Danny said firmly.

"_You _are not an outdoorsman," Rusty stated fondly.

"You don't even know what a s'more is," Danny answered immediately.

There was a noise outside. They gazed uneasily at the door of the tent for a long moment.

"Can wolves open zippers?" Danny asked hesitantly.

Rusty shot him a bemused look. "Exactly what are you worried about here?"

"The door, Rus'. The door is a zipper," Danny explained patiently.

"Oh." He considered for a moment. "You don't think that wolves could just tear through the tent? If they wanted to?"

Danny's face was pale. "There _aren't _any wolves round here though....right?"

Rusty blinked. "Yeah," he said, like it was obvious. Which it was.

"Yeah there aren't or - "

" - yes, there are wolves. But they very rarely attack humans," Rusty explained confidently.

"_Very rarely?" _Danny cut in, in a tone of voice that suggested this wasn't necessarily much of a comfort.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "Very rarely."

"Right." Danny stared at the tent walls blankly. "Right. Anything else I should be worried about?"

"Cougars," Rusty shrugged.

Danny hesitated. "We're not talking older women here, are we."

"Mountain lions," he explained patiently.

"_Lions?!" _Danny's eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"_Mountain_ lions," Rusty corrected evenly. "Yes."

Danny stared. "There's a difference?"

"Well they're more....less..." He thought for a moment. "You know, there's really no difference that you'd care about."

"But that's it, right?" Danny checked. "Other than spiders and snakes and frogs and Bernard and wolves and lions...there's nothing else to worry about."

Rusty blinked. Actually, when Danny put it like _that...._he wanted to go home. Or at least to a hotel. With a huge bed and soft pillow and a hot bath and room service and a mini bar and -

" - Rus'," Danny demanded urgently. "There's nothing else to worry about, right?"

"There's bears," he said slowly.

"Bears," Danny said flatly.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed.

"_Bears," _Danny repeated, seeming a little fixated on the idea.

"Yeah," Rusty said again. There wasn't much else _to _say.

"Bears kill people," Danny announced.

Rusty shrugged. "So does Jay Whitely. So did Lanzecki. So do...well, lots of people. It's never stopped us before."

"None of those people wanted to eat us first," Danny pointed out.

Rusty thought for a moment and opened his mouth -

" - _we are not talking about that," _Danny hissed.

Rusty closed his mouth. Quite right too.

"So what to we do if bears attack?" Danny asked expectantly.

He thought for a moment. "If it's a grizzly bear, you're supposed to lie still and play dead."

"Uh huh," Danny nodded. "Done that before."

Rusty ignored him. "If it's a black bear, you're supposed to throw rocks at it and growl loudly," he went on.

"So if we get attacked by a bear we should check it's license first?" Danny suggested.

"And with polar bears you're supposed to take your clothes off and walk away slowly."

There was a silent moment and Danny turned his head and stared at him. "You want me to do a striptease for a bear?"

Rusty shrugged. "You know, thinking about it, we see a bear - "

Danny started to smile. " - we might not be able to outrun a bear - "

" - we sure as hell can outrun - "

" - _Bernard," _they said at the exact same moment.

"He was saying that he'd wake us at five tomorrow. For a nice, ice-cold dip in the river," Rusty said presently.

Danny nodded and looked about as serious as he ever did. "Well, that's it then. We have to kill him."

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Rusty mused. "It would be the perfect crime."

"I thought the thing we pulled with Saul on Aaron Hayes was the perfect crime," Danny said with a frown.

"Nah," Rusty shook his head dismissively. "Remember picking the diamonds out of that trifle?"

"Oh, yeah," Danny nodded then smiled. "For a while there I thought we were all going to end up in - "

" - _don't - " _Rusty warned.

" - custardy," Danny finished brightly.

"Fuck," Rusty exhaled.

Danny laughed and they sat in silence for a while.

"Wanna go to sleep?" Rusty asked. "We're walking twenty four miles tomorrow."

There was an audible groan and Danny looked like he was dreaming of accountancy again.

They stared suspiciously at the sleeping bags for a long moment. Outside in the distance, something growled.

They glanced at each other and, without a word, pushed the sleeping bags together and lay down on top, wrapped in each other's arms. Nothing was ever so bad they couldn't make it better.

* * *

**EXTREMELY GUILTY EDITING!: Forgot to mention, which is fairly unforgiveable, that the line about "Think that's what she was saying anyway" is all the genius work of InSilva, used with permission.....and apparently I am not worthy. *bites lip*  
**


	35. Mope like a tiger

**It's possible I blanked a little on the title for this one....**

* * *

"Danny."

"...."

"_Danny."_

"I'm moping."

"...right."

"What, you got the monopoly on sulking or something?"

"Don't you think that you'd be more comfortable sulking at home?"

"Don't patronise me. Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"Oh, believe me, it's not _just _because you're drunk."

"Right."

"...Danny -"

" - doesn't matter."

"Look. I paid some money. Made some friends. The cops say you're free to go. No one's pressing charges."

"Terrific."

"So you want to go home?"

"No."

"Developed a fondness for jail cells?"

"I'm fine here."

"Okay then. Mind if I sit down?"

"Knock yourself out."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"How did you hear?"

"Nikki called me."

"See? Yet another reason for me to object to you dating cops."

"I don't make a habit of it."

"Really? Because it seems like I can't even get arrested without your girlfriend - "

" - ex girlfriend - "

" - telling you all about it."

"She was concerned."

"What did she tell you?"

"She said you got arrested for being drunk and naked in a bar."

"Mmm."

"Suppose you're wearing underwear at least."

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

"..."

"Danny?"

"Carmel's married."

"..."

"Rus?"

"_Bitch."_

"Hey!....Yeah. Yeah, sorry, guess that's...._what _the _hell _are you wearing?"

"That's not exactly what's important right now."

"_Not important right now?" _You're wearing - "

" - she told you?"

"Is that thing _real?" _

"Yep. She told you?"

"No. No, her husband walked in."

"_Fuck..._Danny, I'm so sorry."

"I feel so stupid."

"You're not."

"Thanks. Coming from a man wearing a rug, that means a lot."

"You're _not." _

"….Thank you. Just...All the times she had to work late. The way I always had to call before coming round. Hell, the number of times she said she couldn't talk right now...I should've known, Rus'. I should've...I _am _an idiot."

"No you're - "

"..."

" - well, sometimes. Not this time. You're not exactly the first person to fall for those excuses you know."

"I guess."

"So you ran out?"

"Yeah. Well, he was...on the other hand, who wouldn't be? Poor bastard. Anyway, I ran out, found a bar and drank as much as I could before they called the cops."

"He hit you?"

"No."

"_Danny..." _

"Well, once or twice. Mostly I managed to dodge. Or run."

"Let me see."

"You are way overprotective. You know that?"

"Stay still."

"Oh, go lick yourself, Tony."

"Did not need that mental image."

"Ugh."

"I may never eat Frosted Flakes again."

"Huh. I'll sell my shares."

"You should've had ice on this...fuck, Danny, you're freezing. Those bastards couldn't have given you a blanket or something?"

"Think they were too busy laughing."

"Right. I see."

"Oh, you can stop thinking that right now."

"What?"

"We are not declaring war on the NYPD."

"We'll see. C'mere."

"..."

"What?"

"...."

"Seriously, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"All...shiny."

"No one's ever shared his dead tiger with me before."

"Right....how much did you manage to drink before they called the cops on you?"

"Quite a lot."

"You should've called me."

"I wanted to mope. Wallow."

"Danny - "

" - you gonna explain the outfit?"

"I was at a party."

"Right."

"Halloween party."

"Oh...what, exactly, are you meant to be?"

"A man-eating Vegas tiger."

"_Oh. _Oh, well, that explains the tiger-skin rug."

"Uh huh."

"And the bloodstains."

"Exactly."

"And the shiny pants, actually. And the crocodile-skin shirt."

"Glad to hear it."

"And the sequins. And the feathers. And the glitter. And - "

" - Danny, I know what I'm wearing."

"And the lipstick on your pants."

"What? Where? Oh....that it gone?"

"Looks like. Grace was at the party?"

"Yeah. Friend of hers was hosting."

"You didn't mention you were going to a party earlier."

"I didn't know earlier. Grace invited me at the last minute. Hence the last minute costume."

"A tiger-skin is last minute?"

"Remember Jerry Halfmond?"

"Uh huh. Couple of years ago now."

"Right. Remember the penthouse? With the awful décor?"

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me."

"They had a tiger skin rug."

"I take it the past tense is relevant here."

"..."

"Oh, you can stop laughing."

"I will if you will."

"I really did like her."

"I know. She wasn't worth it."

"..."

"..."

"Think you got glitter on me."

"Sorry. You wanna go home, have a few more drinks, maybe some ice cream, lie on Pubert, watch horror movies and take bets on who dies first?"

"...you named your tiger-skin?"

"..."

"You named your tiger-skin _Pubert?" _

"It suits him. It."

"...you know, it kinda does."

"Now I _know _you're smashed."

"Uh huh. Take me home?"

"Of course."


	36. By any other name

**Something very short today. Just because. ;)**

* * *

Danny had only stepped away for a moment. Five minutes. Maybe. Just. Barely long enough to give Tess a call and reassure her that everything was fantastic and he was heading home tomorrow, and he'd bought her something wonderful, and yes he was sure he had bought it, and no he wasn't going to tell her what it might be, and he loved her so much, and no he wasn't even going to give her a clue.

Five minutes. Surely not long enough for Rusty to get into trouble. And yet when Danny walked back inside, Rusty was leaning up against the bar with a large drunk man draped over him, politely evading the drunk's wandering hands.

Sighing and with a definite set to his jaw, Danny marched forwards, prepared to be a hell of a lot less polite. He stopped abruptly the moment Rusty became aware of him. Because the moment Rusty became aware of him Rusty was broadcasting invisible, urgent, keep-back signals in mile-high, illuminated neon.

Troubled, he sank down into a chair at their abandoned table and watched surreptitiously. He didn't think there was any danger. Rusty didn't seem frightened in any way, just frantic for Danny not to come over. He watched some more. If he had to guess, the drunk knew Rusty. Or thought he did. Familiarity, not predation. Not that that made it any better to watch. Not that that made Rusty seem to be enjoying it any more. And whatever urgent excuses Rusty was whispering, the man was too drunk or too thick-skinned to be anything other than persistent. And Rusty was shaking his head at the man, but his hands were clasped loosely together and he was looking up at the man demurely through long lashes. He looked effete and ineffectual and vapid and vacant. Not Rusty. Very much not Rusty.

So, Rusty playing a part and a man who thought he knew and thought he had a right to touch. Danny gritted his teeth. A con he'd had no part in and a mark who didn't know he had been and really shouldn't find out. They'd just come out for a quiet drink. Why did things always get complicated.

As he watched, Rusty firmly removed the man's hand for a third time. Right. Enough was enough. He might have no doubts that Rusty would successfully extricate himself given time and Rusty might still be screaming at him to stay well away and leave well alone, but if he was able to stand by and do nothing then his life would be a lot less....everything, really....than it was.

He walked up to the bar, and barely, silently, acknowledged Rusty's frustration and resignation.

"Hi there," he smiled very politely and he very pointedly put an arm over Rusty's shoulders and glared at the drunk. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Hey, Tommy," Rusty cut in with a little giggle and a frown that only Danny could see. "This is Jasper. He's an old friend of mine."

"Uh huh," Danny nodded.

"You and sweetcheeks together?" Jasper looked dumbly disappointed.

_Sweetcheeks?_

"Yes," Danny said with difficulty, not looking anywhere near Rusty. "We are."

"Damn," Jasper sighed. "That sure is a pity, sugar-lips. I was hoping you and me might get better acquainted."

_Sugar-lips?!_

"Sorry I got to say no," Rusty purred.

"But he does," Danny smiled, still standing over Jasper.

"Sugar-lips...not that I ever got to taste, you know that?" Jasper complained morosely.

Danny wasn't surprised.

"Your boyfriend is a tease," Jasper rambled on. "So pretty though. And I love the way he smiles when he sings Shania Twain on karaoke. And he gets drunk from three Mai Tais, don't you kitten?"

_Kitten?!? _Oh, God help him.

"It was very nice to meet you, Jasper," he began hastily.

Jasper ignored him and looked at Rusty again, leaning in far closer than Danny felt Tommy the fake boyfriend would like. Come to that, _he _wasn't exactly delighted with it. "I looked for you later, you know. Guess you'd moved on. Could've done with the company. You know, when I got home, I found I'd been robbed. They took everything I owned. I mean, _everything. _They took the carpets. And the lightbulbs. And the wallpaper. And then, and then, after that I find out that my bitch of a wife has found out about the money I was hiding from the lot and left me. Said it was hers in the first place. What does she know, right? Not like it was hers in the first first place. Stupid bitch left me with nothing." His voice rose and he looked at them for encouragement, blinking heavily. "Could really have used the company," he mumbled, and he reached out and touched Rusty's hair with a trembling hand. "Could still use the company. 'M so lonely..."

"No," Rusty said firmly, pushing the hand away, and Danny grabbed Jasper's arm when he looked like he was going to try again.

"Enough," he snapped.

Jasper staggered to his feet. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going, I'm going. Selfish prick. Something like sweetcheeks should belong to the _world _you know?"

He stumbled off.

Danny turned and looked at Rusty who had stumbled against the bar with an audible sigh of relief. "You mind telling me what that was about?"

Jasper lurched back up and planted a brief, slobbering kiss on Rusty's cheek before either of them could react. "Goodbye, Danny, " he said and he was talking to Rusty.

There was a long silence. In fact, it went on long after Jasper had disappeared again. Long after Rusty had signalled the barman for another couple of drinks. Long after they'd walked thoughtfully back to their table.

"It was five years ago," Rusty said eventually. "You'd just gone to prison."

Danny stared at him.

"I might have been a little upset with you," Rusty added pensively, wiping his cheek and taking a drink.

Danny stared some more.

"Okay," Rusty conceded with a sigh. "Maybe a lot upset."

"You used my name for a part," Danny said slowly. "You used my name for a blond bimbo."

Rusty looked down at his drink. "You weren't meant to find out."

"Yeah," Danny said heavily. "You bring strange new meaning to passive aggression, you know that?"

Rusty looked up at him and apology burned deep in his eyes and anger had long ago been overtaken by guilt and regret.

Danny sighed. It was five years ago. And he didn't even need to stretch to imagine how lost and frightened and angry Rusty had been. And really, if he thought about it, it was kind of -

" - funny?" Rusty asked a little incredulous and a lot hopeful as Danny's lips twitched.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Long as you don't make a habit - "

" - of impersonating you?" Rusty grinned. "Only when I'm feeling old."

Danny shook his head. "So I get that you were distracting Mr Charm there. Who for? The wife?"

"Uh huh," Rusty agreed. "Easy enough. Spent a couple nights letting him buy me drinks and teach me to play pool."

"Right." He frowned. "Was the wife anyone we - "

" - Tammy," Rusty cut in.

"No shit." Danny blinked. "Tammy married _that?" _

"Yeah," Rusty grimaced. "Lasted just over a month. In that time he slept with nine guys she knows of and stole twenty grand from her."

"Fuck," Danny exhaled. "Hope you ruined the bastard."

"Pretty much," Rusty nodded. "I'll never get why she married him in the first place."

"Some people are willing to tolerate a _lot _from the people they love," Danny said gravely.

Rusty looked suspicious. Danny grinned.

Tolerance was one thing. Didn't mean that revenge wasn't inevitable.


	37. Unlikely

**A/N: InSilva says I should be mocked and wishes me to be sued. She's _meaaaaaan! _**

**Relevant A/N: Sequel to 'Danny's Luck' with a completely different atmosphere. Why? No real reason. Absolutely ridiculous story here, sorry.  
**

* * *

There were times, Linus thought, when he almost wished he'd never met Danny. Obviously, if he hadn't, his life would have been far more boring, but he had to weigh that against the knowledge that if he _hadn't _his life would have been _far more boring. _

For example, if Linus had never met Danny there was absolutely _no way_ that he'd have been kidnapped by an insane cult, hell-bent on human sacrifice. It just would never have happened. Because that kind of thing didn't happen to _him, _it happened to Danny. And, of course, anyone unfortunate enough to have been with Danny when he was unexpectedly bundled into the back of a Station Wagon. In this case, that had been Linus.

They'd been taken off to a perfectly normal suburban house, dragged upstairs and chained to the wall in what, presumably, had at one point been the master bedroom. There were flowery drapes on the windows and a large stone altar in the middle of the floor. And a very, very large, very, very sharp-looking knife.

He found himself glaring sideways at Danny as the three men and the woman who'd captured them changed from the all-black/ski-mask/kidnapper look into the white-flowing-robes/evil-cultist/batshit-crazy look.

"This is all your fault," he hissed.

Danny looked unrepentant and unruffled. "Excuse me," he called out to the nearest cultist, who promptly paused in the act of dressing, his robes apparently back to front.

"Yes?" the cultist replied politely, slightly to Danny's surprise.

"I wonder if you'd mind telling us what's going on?" Danny smiled charmingly.

"You have been chosen," the back-to-front cultist intoned.

"Chosen!" the other two men echoed.

"Oh, that's _helpful," _Linus muttered.

"Chosen for what?" Danny persisted.

"You wouldn't understand," the back-to-front-cultist said, in a more normal voice and with a slight shrug.

"You're here to serve a great Purpose!" the woman cut in eagerly.

Linus rolled his eyes. "A great purpose?" he repeated incredulously.

"Not you!" the woman snapped. "Him!" he pointed at Danny.

"Told you it was your fault," Linus said sullenly.

"He has been touched by Destiny!" the other two cultist chorused in precise unison. It wasn't as impressive to Linus as it was probably meant to be.

"Destiny?" Danny asked, thoughtfully, looking like he was struggling to remember any touching.

"Yes!" the woman declaimed. "You have been blessed by a higher being!"

Danny grinned. "Oh, trust me. It's overrated."

Linus growled. "Come on, this is _stupid," _he protested. The whole thing was so ludicrous he was having trouble taking it seriously. Even with the chains and the knife. He was half expecting Ashton Kutcher to leap out from behind the wardrobe.

The woman ignored him, staring angrily at Danny. "You may mock, if you wish. We'd never expect you to believe us. But higher beings take an interest in the lives of men. Powerful, intangible spirits - "

" - walk among us?" Danny suggested, sounding amused.

"No!" the woman snapped instantly. "They do not sully their feet."

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully.

"We are talking about pure beings," the woman went on. "Higher beings. The representations of existence. Destiny, Death, Destruction...Above human emotions and frailties." Danny went into an unexpected choking fit and the woman glared and raised her voice. "And you are protected by one of them."

"There are signs and portents!" the chorus chorused.

"Of course there are," Linus sighed. "Because Danny is _exactly _what a higher being is looking for."

Danny looked insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Linus narrowed his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, these people are completely - "

" - able to hear you," the back-to-front cultist cut in sharply. Oh. He actually kinda hadn't thought of that. They seemed so out of it he hadn't expected them to care.

"All this is complete _bullshit_," he pointed out. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. "There's no such thing as 'higher beings'. It's all stupid fairy tales."

"Enough!" the woman held up her hand abruptly. "Like it or not, we know your friend has been touched by power. And we will have that power for ourselves when we kill him."

"When you _what?" _Linus demanded. The whole thing really hadn't seemed real. And now it did.

"You know, at this point, I think I should tell you that would be a really bad idea," Danny commented quietly.

The back-to-front cultist laughed. "You would say that, though," she pointed out and Linus was inclined to agree.

"Oh, trust me," Danny smiled. "I'm not bluffing. A really, _really _bad idea."

"Prepare the sacrifice!" the woman intoned dramatically, walking towards the altar, picking up the knife, and Linus was yelling, spitting profanity and ridicule in turn. The woman paused and frowned, absently testing the point of the blade on her finger. "Oh, and shut up the non-believer, will you?"

"The non-believer must be silenced," the chorus agreed cheerfully, picking up a bowl and walking towards Linus.

"Leave him alone!" Danny snapped, and Linus struggled in his chains, but they held the bowl to his lips and forced him to drink.

It was very, very cold. Or, possibly, very, very hot. Or, maybe it was very, very purple...or snail-like. It was something anyway, and when they stepped back from him he stared and giggled. "Your heads are on the wrong way round," he told the chorus dreamily.

"What have you done to him?" Danny was demanding, somewhere far away, and Linus wanted to tell him to relax.

"We use it to induce visions. His mind is open. It will help the ceremony. You have power that you can't even imagine and it _will _be ours." She didn't have a very nice voice. Like crows in velvet.

Danny sounded like liquid night pouring over ice. It was a nicer noise. "If you've hurt him - "

" - you'll _what?" _she asked and the laughter was echoing in his head and he whimpered a little and tried to shut it out. "You have no power here, little man. Not for long. And I will become as a god!"

"Oh, you did _not _just say that," Danny said, pained.

There was the sound of an explosion from downstairs. More than an explosion. Like someone had set a rainbow on fire. The sound was colours.

The woman looked startled. "Jack! Alonzo! Go and see what that was, will you?"

The chorus set off eagerly.

A moment later and there were more noises downstairs. Screaming and terror. Linus found himself singing happily along. The back to front cultist buried himself in the opposite corner, crouched down behind the wardrobe, like he was trying to hide from the world. If Linus' hands were free, he would've waved.

The woman was looking more than just startled now. She looked kind of like she'd opened a packet of Cheerios and found a hippopotamus. "What's going on!" she demanded angrily.

Danny shrugged. "Told you it was a bad idea."

Red splashed against Linus' face. "Oh dear," he said vaguely. "It's raining blood."

"It's jello," Danny told him, licking his lips.

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the building shook like it was an earthquake. The chains slipped off the wall in an instant, freeing them.

Linus sat heavily on the floor. Danny rubbed at his wrists. "How fortunate," he commented, as the woman stared.

"Lucky!" Linus agreed, giggling and then the door unexpectedly snapped inwards, like there'd been a really unseasonal frost, and there was a lot of light in the room. "Wha's tha?" he muttered, squinting.

Danny smiled at him, brief and reassuring. "That? That, Linus, is a very pissed off higher being. Excuse me a moment, will you?"

"Okay," he agreed, quite happy to stay where he was and watch as Danny talked to the light, argued with it. The light was really pretty when it pouted. Actually, the light was just generally really pretty.

"You got any idea what - "

" - you okay?"

"They didn't hurt me. Linus is drugged, don't know with what."

"Huh."

"Right. Now. _What are you doing?" _

"You don't think this is subtle? I think this is subtle."

"..."

"..."

"The men downstairs?"

"Mmm."

"Rus'. The men downstairs?"

"They're alive."

"Uh huh. And you want to tell me what you don't want to tell me?"

"Oh look," Linus cut in, staring entranced at the doorway. "Butterflies!" There were a lot of butterflies. An awful lot of butterflies.

"Oh, you _didn't_," Danny hissed.

The light sounded slightly abashed and slightly amused. "You remember that one episode of Star Trek where they all de-evolved and you said it was _lucky _that kind of thing didn't happen in real life? Well...."

"Turn them back. Now." Danny's words were ice and threatening to fall like an avalanche any moment now.

The light pouted a little more. "Fine," it ground out, and then the chorus was lying in a heap on the floor.

"This is a dream! A nightmare! It's not possible!" the woman sounded shrill and Linus wondered why she thought this part was so much more far-fetched than the rest.

The light walked over to her, Danny immediately behind. "Lily Nash," the light said softly. "This was your idea, huh?"

"How do you know my name?" she asked, sounding scared.

"Oh, it was just a guess," the light assured her happily. "I think you wanted to meet me, am I right?"

The woman was staring and mouthing incoherent words.

"The next time you try to sacrifice someone because they have a relationship with a higher being?" Danny suggested. "You might want to check just how close that relationship is."

"She's not going to be sacrificing anyone anymore," the light said, and it was shining like steel now, like fire, like an absolute and unstoppable storm.

"Rus'," Danny said quietly and the storm stopped in its tracks.

"She was going to kill you, Danny," Rusty said, and no matter how hard he squinted, Linus couldn't tell Rusty and the light apart anymore. "She was going to kill you because of - "

" - I know," Danny said gently. "And I'm asking you not to kill her. Please."

There was a very, very long silence. Years, probably. "Higher being?" Rusty asked eventually.

"Oh, get over it," Danny told him.

"Okay, fine." The Rusty-light waved his hand at the woman and the back-to-front cultist, still gibbering in a corner. "Both of you, go away. Take your friends with you."

They ran out of the room like hell was after them and suddenly, Danny and the Rusty-light were kneeling in front of him.

"Pretty," he crooned, reaching up and trying to touch the light but his arms were just a bit too heavy. "So, so beautiful."

("What the hell is he seeing?"

"Truth, I think."

"...Huh."

"One kind of truth. He's not seeing what you see."

"Oh."

"No one else sees that. Ever.")

"Hey, kid," Danny said with a slight smile, and a slight glint of fear in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to shrug but gave up halfway. Everything was too confusing, and his heart was racing, and he was sure if he just closed his eyes for a bit it would all start to make sense again.

"Is he going to be alright?" he heard Danny asking, somewhere.

(_Someone was playing cards in his head. He couldn't see their face properly, but they were sitting at a table, shuffling the deck, and Linus had to sit __opposite and then Rusty was sitting beside him, smiling and sunshine and eating a box of Crackerjacks. The someone didn't seem to see Rusty because he only dealt cards to himself and Linus, and when Linus picked up the cards he could almost weep. Two of Spades, Queen of Hearts, Five, Seven, King of Clubs. He had nothing and he had lost and he didn't think he'd even meant to bet what he had, but already a cold hand was reaching across the table to claim what it had won. _

"_Wait," Rusty said, and his hand was on Linus' briefly, and when Linus looked down again, what he'd thought were a Five and a Seven were actually the Ace of Diamonds and the Ace of Hearts. "Two Aces," Rusty murmured. "Try and remember what you've got, Linus." Rusty smiled at him, bright like no one would believe._

_Someone growled in disappointment and cards were thrown across the table and everything disappeared.)_

"He's going to be fine," Rusty promised Danny, an instant later.

*

It was a few hours after Linus woke up in hospital that Mom and Dad were willing to leave him alone long enough for Danny and Rusty to wander in.

In that time he'd managed to get the gist of the story. Which was just as well; he really didn't remember it. Seemingly he and Danny had been kidnapped by lunatics, and Rusty had arrived in time to provide a distraction and he and Danny had been able to sneak out. But not, apparently, before they'd given him a high dose of some kind of hallucinogenic toxin. Which, luckily, he'd managed to throw up before it could do any permanent harm. Unluckily, he'd apparently thrown up on Danny's shoes. Oh, well.

Still, while he'd been taken to the hospital, their kidnappers had apparently taken themselves to the police station and confessed not only to kidnap but also to a whole host of other crimes, at least some of which they really couldn't have committed. At least Dad seemed pretty sure that they hadn't actually faked the moon landings.

He really didn't remember anything. Just fragments, here and there. Something absolutely beautiful. Butterflies. Jello. That was about it. He figured he must have had some pretty wild dreams.

"Hey, Linus, we brought you some grapes," Danny said as he strolled into the room.

"Also some peanut butter cups," Rusty added. "Eat 'em while they're round."

"Eat them before you do, you mean," Linus corrected, reaching eagerly for the candy and ignoring the grapes. Whatever he'd been given it had left a weird taste in his mouth. Peanut butter was exactly what he was craving.

Rusty smirked at Danny and Danny dropped the grapes on the table with a scowl.

"How you feeling?" Danny asked.

"Fine," Linus said, after he'd swallowed his mouthful of peanut butter. "I'm getting out in a couple of hours."

"We're really sorry," Rusty said softly.

Linus shrugged. "Wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for Danny to be kidnapped by a weird cult, right?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed after a pause. "We're still sorry."

He shrugged again and then thought of something and chewed on his lip. "When I was...when I was hallucinating did I, you know, _say _anything? Embarrassing, I mean?"

They leaned forwards, an identical glint in their eyes. "Oh, you mean like - "

" - professing your eternal love for Julie Andrews?"

"Wondering if you could learn to tap dance?"

"That kind of thing?"

He groaned. Yeah. That kind of thing.

"No," Danny said cheerfully, leaning back. "You didn't."

"But that isn't necessarily what we're going to be telling everyone else," Rusty added happily, reaching down and producing a box of Crackerjack from nowhere.

For a moment, Linus froze and an important memory was screaming at him from the very deepest recesses of his mind. Something about Rusty. Rusty smiling and playing cards...

But that could be so many times. It was nothing. And he shoved it aside and concentrated on trying to find out what it would take to guarantee their silence.

He never knew. He might get lucky.


	38. Brand New Sucker

**A/N: Set after Ocean's 13. **

**A/N2: This story was very nearly not brought to you at all. On account of me going to get a cup of tea just before posting and neatly tripping over a cable. From this, we learn two things. First of all, that the internet only works if a phone line is involved. Who knew? And secondly that the bottom corner of my desk is _sharp. _Ow. Also, haven't even _got _a cup of tea yet. Am sulking.  
**

* * *

The sucker was staring at his cards with an expression of vapid stupidity. After a moment he looked up and smiled hesitantly. "What does the little man with the 'J' mean again?" he asked, wide-eyed and confused and sincere.

Jake resisted the urge to look at his partners, convinced that he'd burst out laughing. Oh, this clown was their fourth target of the day and unquestionably the most lucrative. Even better than the last creep who'd gone away crying after he'd lost his car. But this loser had 'goldmine' all over him. That had been obvious from the moment they'd seen him wandering the casino floor with an armful of chips and a bewildered expression.

Jake had done his usual. Waited until he was sure security was nowhere in sight, stepped forwards and offered to take the sucker somewhere quieter to gamble. Show him the ropes, as it were. He'd taken the sucker up to the room they'd got specially for fleecing marks. Didn't do to take them anyplace they'd find anyone if they came back later. But they'd sat him round the table, brought out the whisky, showed him the hands and a few shuffles and the idiot had lapped it up, effusively grateful, fluttering his eyelashes. Jake was enjoying taking him for everything he had. Not that he had anything against fags, mind you. Their money was just as good as anyone else's, and they were less likely to cut up rough over losing it.

He smiled as Ray leaned forwards. "That's a Jack, remember? The lowest face card. Worth more than a Ten and less than a Queen."

The sucker nodded frantically and looked like he was trying to memorise it. "Jack. Less than a Ten, more than a Queen."

Jake tried to keep from laughing aloud. "Other way round," he advised.

"Oh!" The sucker's eyes were wide. "Oh, I see. Jack....Jack." Jake would put serious money on him asking the same question in the next hand. Didn't seem likely that this idiot had the smarts to remember more than three things at once.

Four hands later and most of the sucker's money was in the middle of the table and he was _still _staring at his cards like he'd never seen them before.

They'd taken over fifteen thousand dollars from the guy so far and he had less than a thousand in front of him.

"You need to put in another two thousand in to stay in the game," Jake said, smiling.

The sucker carried on staring at his cards, nibbling on his forefinger thoughtfully. Jake had dealt him three Aces and he probably felt like nothing could stop him. "I don't have that...." he said pensively. "But I really think I could win this time!" He looked up, beaming with happiness.

Yeah. Fat chance. Jake frowned. "I suppose we could possibly let you bet something else," he mused, with fake-reluctance.

The sucker's smile became impossibly brighter. "Really? You'd do that? You guys are the best!" He frowned, his fingers playing around his mouth, his tongue darting over his lips. In spite of himself, Jake found himself transfixed. "But what could I bet?" the sucker wondered guilelessly.

"Any..." Jake cleared his throat self-consciously. "Anything you like," he said, in a more normal tone of voice. He wasn't fussy, after all. He'd take whatever the guy was offering.

The sucker giggled. "You're right!" he exclaimed. "I know I'm not going to lose, so it doesn't really matter, right?"

"Uh huh," Jake nodded, his smile a little fixed.

"Mmmm...." He was damned if the sucker wasn't actually _sucking _on his fingers right now. It was fucking distracting. "Oh, well, how about if I bet this?" He held up a keycard. "I'm in one of the high roller suites," he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bright pink lollipop with an air of mild astonishment. "'s a good room. And I suppose I could throw in everything in it, since I know I'm going to win."

He unwrapped the lollipop and swirled it around his mouth, his eyes closed, his face shining with pleasure.

"_Everything _in the room?" Ray asked hoarsely, and Jake kicked him hard under the table.

Still, a high roller suite wasn't bad. And the clothes this guy was wearing looked expensive. Ridiculous, but expensive. Odds were good that the contents of the room would be more than a few suits and a stack of toiletries.

"That sounds good," he agreed, smiling benevolently, as the sucker threw the keycard into the pot.

He watched as Ray dealt the last card, shifting uncomfortably as the sucker sucked his lollipop with blissful innocence.

The game moved quickly. Another raise round the table; Ray and Chuck dropped out and it was just him and the sucker. He looked down at the heart flush he was holding. And the sucker still just had his three Aces.

"You're going to need to put something else in the pot if you want to stay in the game," he told the sucker, artfully apologetic.

Pulling the lollipop out of his mouth with an audible pop, the sucker pouted. "But I don't have anything else..."

"Then I guess you're out," Jake told him, reaching for the money pointedly. He was sure the guy had more to be taken.

"Wait!" the sucker leaned forwards, looking between his cards and the money in the middle. "Um...uh....how about if I bet my car?" He pulled out a set of car keys. "It's a classic. 1964 Mustang. In excellent condition. Well, mostly excellent condition," he added, with disarming honesty.

A car was a car. And if the thing was a classic there was probably some sort of collectors market. "That should do," he nodded, happily enough. "Let's see what you've got."

He didn't bother looking as the sucker turned his cards over. He already knew how this game ended. "Heart flush," he announced, happily reaching for the money.

Ray was making choking noises.

The sucker looked puzzled. "But I thought you said that four of a kind beat a flush?" he said, frowning. "And I've got four ones, look."

Jake looked. The bastard did. Four Aces were lying there on the table.

Fucking Ray. He knew that the bastard was easily distracted by a pretty face and an oral fixation, but he'd assumed that the lecherous fuck at least had the taste to stick to skirts.

"You win then," he said, smiling through clenched teeth. "Well done."

The sucker laughed, delighted and he reached into the table and took back the keys, all his money and most of theirs. "Oh, this is fun! Can we play again?" He looked up at Jake, through his eyelashes, licking his lips again. "Maybe you can win something back."

Jake grinned. Oh, they would. He'd make this bastard cry before the night was through.

Another four hands, another three lollipops and the sucker was still about as far from crying as a man could be.

He kept winning. It wasn't possible, but he kept winning. And Ray was easily distracted, but he wasn't _that _bad. Jake was beginning to wonder if he was being set up here. But the look on Ray's face surely couldn't be faked.

They were down a lot. They were down nearly everything. And nothing was working. In desperation, he'd even called down for room service, asked for Charlie, the guy they had a little arrangement with. And sure, Charlie had come in, glanced at the sucker's cards, just like always, and he'd passed a note of them to Jake as usual. All above board, right up until the part where when the sucker laid his cards down they weren't the ones that Charlie had told him. Not a single one. Wasn't fucking possible.

And Jake would _swear _that the guy wasn't cheating. After the third impossible hand, when he was convinced that it couldn't just be Ray's carelessness, he'd started looking really closely, but there was no sign of it. No hint that the guy was anything more than he appeared to be.

They'd pulled all the stops out this time. He was sitting on top of a Ten high straight flush and Ray had made absolutely sure that all the mark had was two pair. They'd swapped decks earlier; going for the marked one. Jake could _see _what the guy was holding; there was absolutely no doubt.

All was well. Except he didn't have enough to call the sucker's bluff.

"You could always bet something else," the sucker suggested innocently, licking happily at a fresh lollipop. Jake was beginning to seriously hate him.

Still. Since they couldn't lose...He pulled out his room key and laid it on the middle of the table.

The sucker picked up the key with an air of disappointment. "Not a high roller suite," he complained. "Not even a suite. I don't know....I don't think that's worth enough."

Jake gritted his teeth. They had to stay in the game. They had to stay in the game or else they'd lose everything they'd made today. "What would be worth enough?" he asked.

Turned out what would be worth enough was all of their room keys, his car and the car they'd taken off the sucker earlier, and Chuck's bike and Ray's watch, and an IOU for three hundred dollars besides.

He thought, maybe, they'd got a little carried away. But he wanted this fag so badly he could taste it.

"There!" he snarled, throwing down his cards. "Beat that, if you can."

"Oh, I think I can," the sucker murmured coolly, and he turned his cards over delicately. A Royal Flush. A Royal Flush in _their _deck that had been plainly marked.....

He stared up into the eyes of what suddenly seemed to be the wrong kind of sucker.

"Fun as this has been, gentlemen, I'm afraid I've got somewhere else to be," the sucker said lightly. "Now, about that IOU....."

* * *

Rusty wandered downstairs, absently unwrapping another lollipop. Well, that had been fun. Time well spent. And he'd find Simon later and give him back his money and his car keys. In the meantime, he should really go find Isabel and try and convince her that he hadn't been getting into trouble while she'd been out shopping.

Turned out he couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried. He got to the front door just in time to see Isabel walk in, closely followed by Danny and Tess. Huh. They must have caught an earlier flight. And he was smiling before he knew anything about it.

"Look who I bumped into outside!" Isabel said happily, and the next couple of minutes were spent in greetings.

"So what have you been doing?" Danny asked him eventually, eyes dancing with secret, knowing laughter.

Isabel turned and looked at him sharply. "What _have _you been doing?" she asked, with inevitable amusement.

He shrugged and tried to look innocent. "Oh, you know. I've been spending my time productively." Speaking of which....He glanced back towards the stairs. Let's see....five minutes for them to be convinced he wasn't joking and wasn't coming back. Two minutes for them to figure there was no way for them to get into their own rooms without the keycards that were currently located in his pocket. Two minutes for them to discover that the phone in the room wasn't working anymore. Say, five minutes for them to work up the mini-bar-induced confidence....

He heard the shrieks before he saw them and he grinned. "Anyone who doesn't want to see something slightly disturbing should look away now," he advised, just as Jake, Ray and Chuck ran into view, naked and only mostly-covered by a selection of towels and flannels.

Tess choked and buried her face against Danny's shoulder, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Isabel glared at him playfully. "I can't take you anywhere," she muttered.

"Hey, I'm not the one naked," he pointed out.

"This time," Danny added, helpfully. "Not to mention - "

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, that's - "

" - I wouldn't say _completely," _Danny protested. "After all, there was the jewellery."

"Not on me there wasn't!" he objected. "Besides, that was Italy. They're much more relaxed about things over there."

"Italy?" Danny blinked. "I was talking about Pittsburgh."

"Oh." He thought about it for a moment. "Oh, then you're completely right."

Isabel was looking at them. "Do I want to know?" she asked.

"No," they chorused immediately.

"I'm almost certain _I _don't," Tess commented.

As they were talking, Chuck and Ray had made it across the floor and were streaking towards the fire exit. Rusty couldn't help but wonder what the plan was here. Him, he would've found an unoccupied room and availed himself of someone's unwitting hospitality. Running down the Strip naked wasn't his idea of a good time....huh. He must be getting old.

Jake, meantime, had found his way blocked by a pair of burly security guards, apparently intent on explaining the dress code to him. He turned, looking round desperately, and lit eyes on Rusty. "You!" he shrieked. "You cheating _bastard!"_

"Oh, boy," he sighed.

Danny grinned at him. "You had to take their clothes?"

He shrugged. "They take things too far, I take them further."

Jake lunged across the floor towards him. He didn't move. Some men just weren't intimidating naked. "I want my money back, you fucker! And my car! And where the fuck are my clothes!"

He sucked on the lollipop thoughtfully. "Well, when I looked closer, they didn't seem to be worth three hundred dollars. So I guess I threw them out somewhere."

"Off-the-peg?" Danny asked sympathetically.

Rusty nodded. "Cheap materials are _such _a mistake," he sighed.

Jake was raging and the security guards had him by the arms. "I'm going to kill you, you fucking arrogant, queer...." His towel fell to the floor.

"Oh, my," Isabel raised her eyebrows. "Is it cold in here or is it just you?"

With a visible effort, Jake calmed himself down and twisted his head round to talk to the security guards. "Look. This..._man..._got me involved in a private game. Obviously he was cheating and he took all my money and my clothes."

"Cheating is a very serious accusation," one of the guards rumbled.

"Yes, well, I know the owner of this place _personally,"_ Jake blustered. "I can assure you he'll be very upset about all of this."

Rusty glanced at Danny and raised an eyebrow. "He knows the owner _personally," _he whispered.

Danny smiled. "Uh huh. Good to know."

"The boss is on his way now," one of the security guards reported, after talking to his cuff for a bit.

Jake looked smug. Naked, but smug. "Now you're in trouble," he told Rusty, and a moment later, as the elevator arrived, he turned round hopefully. "Mr Tishkoff, I'm sure you remember me, we met at The Rio last month."

"He was probably wearing clothes then," Danny put in helpfully, as Reuben was staring at Jake with an expression of unconcealed bewilderment.

Reuben looked over sharply and beamed at the sight of them. "Guys! When did you get here!" In an instant first Danny then Rusty were hugged happily. "And Tess! Isabel! You're looking well." Both were kissed on the cheeks. "When did you get here? How come I didn't know?"

"We just got here," Danny explained. "Rusty and Isabel have been here a while longer though."

Reuben glanced back at Jake. "Yeah, I see that. You know, my people say 'We got a naked man causing a disturbance down at reception', I don't know why I didn't figure you were here immediately."

"Hey, I'm not the one naked," Rusty objected.

"This time," Tess murmured, and Isabel blinked at her.

"And I wasn't actually involved," Danny pointed out.

Reuben shrugged. "Like that matters."

The security guard cleared his throat. "Ah, Mr Tishkoff? The naked gentleman has levelled an accusation of cheating against Mr Ryan."

"You cheating in my hotel, Rusty?" Reuben asked, straight-faced.

Rusty blinked at him. "Of course not, Reuben," he said immediately. "I wouldn't do that."

"Good enough for me," Reuben nodded sharply. "Okay, find this guy some clothes and throw him out," he told his security guards while Jake stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed and incoherent. "And now," he added, turning and smiling at them. "You come and get some dinner and we can get caught up Rusty can tell me _why _he wasn't cheating and what happened to that guy's clothes."

He shrugged. "He picked the wrong sucker," he explained simply.


	39. Descended

**One shot conversation-piece set in the 'Danny's Luck' universe.**

**This fic was nearly not posted at all. Because I forgot what I saved it as.**

* * *

"..."

"I know you're looking at me."

"I am not."

"Liar."

"True."

"And you're _still _looking at me."

"Well, we're talking now. That means I can look at you if I like.... Actually, I can always look at you if I like."

"Uh huh. But you were looking at me like you were wondering something."

"You know that for definite, huh."

"Yep."

"How?"

"Magic."

"Right."

"I also know you're not going to be happy till you've asked it."

"..."

"It's _that _bad? After all this time you've found something you can't ask?"

"It's personal."

"Danny..."

"You want to stop laughing at me anytime soon?"

"You don't make it easy."

"Right. You know how you're old?"

"Oh, this conversation isn't going well."

"I mean _really _old."

"Flatterer."

"Rusty, you've been around since the dawn of time - "

" - give or take - "

" - I think it's a few centuries too late to be sensitive about your age."

"...."

"Stop that."

"..."

"A man of your age shouldn't pout like that. It's undignified."

"Oh, I can see why I'm the one who always gets the girl."

"Yeah..."

"What?"

"That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Girls?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Danny. Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much - "

" - can you have kids?"

"...."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Mmm. That's not what you actually want to ask, is it?"

"No.....Rus' - "

" - a few. A long time ago."

"I - "

" - I know."

"..."

"...."

"..."

"Suppose you could say I have descendants now."

"You know - "

" - I like to keep track."

"..."

"What?"

"Well...I..."

"What?"

"Am I - "

" - _No!_ God, no. Definitely not."

"Oh. Good."

"You're one hundred percent human, Danny. Trust me."

"But someone we know."

"I didn't say - "

" - since when do you have to? Someone we know....Tell me it's not Toulour."

"_Toulour?"_

"Well that's a relief."

"_Toulour?!"_

"It was just a thought."

"_**Toulour?!!**__"_

"Seriously, let it go."

"Does Toulour strike you as benefiting from my superior genes?"

"Well, he is a little - "

" - oh, you can shut up right now. I am so not talking to you."

"Still. Someone we know."

"You'd be better off leaving it alone."

"Well, we both know that's not going to happen."

"Fine. Saul."

"...."

"Danny?"

"..."

"Danny, you're beginning to frighten me."

"Saul?"

"Uh huh."

"Saul is your however-many-times great grandson."

"Right."

"You're Saul's however-many-times great grandfather."

"Wrong."

"What?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I don't - "

" - I'm Saul's great-great-great-great-grand_mother._"

"...oh."

"Yes. Oh."

"So you were - "

" - yes."

"And you were - "

"Uh huh."

"For nine months?"

"That's the usual time."

"Oh."

"It's not....I was a different person. Literally. Her name was Rebekkah. His was Levi."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes. Like you love Tess."

"It's....sometimes....I'm not - "

" - Danny, look at me."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"All yours. I promise."

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Yep."

"..."

"What, you expected me to argue?"

"Can I tell Saul?"

"No."

"Want to get pizza? I know a nice little place in Florence."

"Sounds good."

"Can I see what you look like as a woman?"

"You'll need to get me _really _drunk first."

"Something to aim for.

"Danny, are you - "

" - I know who you are, Rusty. Nothing else matters."

"....so I can get pineapple on my pizza?"

"Not a chance."


	40. Also Friends

**A/N: Little idea that wandered out of a conversation I was having with InSilva. Possibly two conversations. **

**A/N2: Forty chapters! Bloody hell.  
**

* * *

Tess had arrived at the airport in plenty time – twenty minutes early, in fact. Which made it particularly annoying when she found herself looking up at the arrivals board and discovering that the flight from LA was delayed. That was just great.

Sighing, she wandered into a bar right in the middle of the thoroughfare and ordered a glass of red wine. She sipped at it and sent him a text message, telling him where she was. Obviously, Rusty wouldn't be able to read it on the plane, but she knew from experience that the first thing he'd do – practically as soon as wheels hit tarmac – would be to turn his phone back on and check his messages. Danny did the exact same thing. One of their many shared quirks, and she accepted that knowing one was knowing both. She wondered how Isabel was coming to terms with that.

"Hey, sweetheart." She turned automatically at the hand on her shoulder and found herself looking at a man in a bad suit and a worse comb-over. "What's a woman like you doing in a place like this? Can I buy you a drink? Let me buy you a drink."

"No, thank you," she said firmly, disengaging herself politely. "I'm waiting for someone." She made a point of using her left hand to remove his, her wedding ring as prominent as possible.

"No man should keep a woman like you waiting," the man said persistently.

She smiled coldly. "His flight's delayed. He'll be here soon," she said, in a voice which meant _go away. _

Fortunately, he did. At least a couple of seats away. She eyed him cautiously for a moment and sighed. She hoped that Rusty _would _be here soon. Danny had initially been perplexed by her insistence that she should pick Rusty up from the airport but he hadn't exactly argued. Which was just as well; she couldn't tell him the whys.

"'scuse me," the man from before said, shuffling back over, an half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. "I was just wondering....are you from Tennessee?"

"No," she said stiffly, trying to subtly move further away.

He laughed, like he was about to tell the best joke ever. "Well, that's strange, because you're the only ten _I _see."

"I'm waiting for someone," she repeated, glancing hopefully towards the door. Still no sign of Rusty.

"Come on, it's just a little bit of fun," he protested, still laughing. You know, I read in a magazine where we are what we eat?" He looked her up and down, licking his lips lasciviously. "I could be you by morning."

"Leave me alone!" she said, loud enough to make the bartender frown and take a step closer.

The man held his hands up and stepped away. "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. But you know, if you change your mind...."

There was no world in which that was ever going to happen. She watched him out of the corner of her eye until she was convinced he'd moved far enough away. Of course, she was hardly convinced that meant he wouldn't be back. In her experience, that type tended to be persistent.

It made her wish that Danny was here. Or perhaps not; she was sure that Danny would have said something. Or done something.

It wasn't that Danny was overprotective, exactly, it was more....sometimes she thought that for a man who, she knew beyond all doubt, had seen and done things and lived in a world that most people couldn't dream of, Danny had a surprisingly idealistic view of the world. He thought that the people he cared about should always be treated well. Should always be seen the way he saw them.

She felt, rather than heard, the man walking up behind her and she gritted her teeth; some people just never gave up. "I don't want to hear anymore bad pick-up lines," she said firmly.

There was a pause. "That's a shame," the voice said at last. "I know some really awful ones."

She turned quickly, smiling gladly. "Rusty!" she said happily. "It's so good to see you."

"Hi Tess," he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Someone been bothering you?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said dismissively, and he nodded thoughtfully and waved at the bartender.

"Hi there, a whiskey and a red wine."

She glanced at him while they were waiting for the drinks. "What kind of bad lines?"

He grinned. "I like my women like I like my marshmallows - " he began lightly.

Oh, she could see where that one was going. " - Soft, sweet and covered in chocolate," she finished, rolling her eyes.

"No," he corrected seriously. "Fifty foot tall and rampaging through the streets of New York."

She was still laughing as they walked over to a table, drinks in hand. "How's Isabel?" she asked.

"Fantastic," Rusty told her, and she liked the way he was smiling. She'd seen Rusty date a lot of people since she'd met Danny. She'd never seen him so serious about anyone. So happy with anyone. It was good. More than good. "She's over visiting her father at the moment. They've got a lot of catching up to do."

He was looking at her thoughtfully again and she went on hurriedly, not quite having the nerve to get to the point just yet. Perhaps once she'd finished the rest of her wine. "So the flight was delayed?"

"Yeah," he nodded, grimacing. "You know, there's only so many times you can fly round in circles before you start thinking the pilot's lost. Reminds me of being up with Bash."

"Basher knows how to fly?" she asked startled.

"Fly, yes. Navigate, no," Rusty sighed. "He once landed us on the wrong bank."

She looked at him.

He smiled with charming optimism. "Don't suppose you'd believe that we were just going to cash in a check and Danny wasn't even there?"

"No," she told him, laughing in spite of herself. "I'm not trying to change him, Rusty," she added more seriously.

He nodded and his smile was warm and genuine. "So you wanted to talk to me?"

She did. And she'd wanted to talk to him without Danny knowing. "You know it's Danny's birthday next week?" she began, and she smiled slightly at the amusement on his face. Well, yes, she hadn't actually thought he'd forgotten. "I want - "

" - so this is who you were waiting for?" The man from earlier demanded, loud and belligerent, walking up to their table. "Real men not good enough for you? Why don't you come with me. Let me show you what you're missing."

For a second, Tess saw a flicker in Rusty's eyes. An expression that reminded her of Danny. Instinctively she reached out and gripped his forearm lightly. "Don't," she murmured. "It's not worth it."

He glanced at her for a second, then smiled up at the man tremulously. "Listen," he said in a wheedling voice. "We don't want any trouble. Why don't you let me buy you a drink and we can talk about this, huh?"

The man shot Rusty a look that was equal parts incredulous and contemptuous and then he leered at Tess. "I'll be back for you, sweetheart," he promised, and he let himself be led away by Rusty. Tess watched them go, trusting Rusty.

She couldn't see exactly what happened at the bar. It started with a drink accidentally being spilt over the tall man at the end of the bar. Then there was a stand up argument, with Rusty firmly on the sidelines, talking quietly. Then there was the discovery of the ID badge that Mr Sleaze had somehow acquired from the Air Marshall at the next table. Then airport security materialised and a few seconds later the bar was quiet again and Rusty sauntered back to their table with fresh drinks.

"Don't think we'll be disturbed again," he commented easily.

"That was absolutely unnecessary," she told him levelly.

He shrugged, supremely unrepentant. "It's always worth it, Tess," he said, meeting her gaze evenly, and she knew that some of that was about her and more of it was about Danny, but still...

"Isabel should know how lucky she is."

He looked startled then amused. "I'll tell her that the next time she gets woken up at odd hours of the night while I'm looking for chocolate."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, I didn't say she wouldn't need the patience of a saint."

"Right." He leaned forwards. "So why are we here? You mentioned Danny's birthday."

"Yes." She toyed with the glass of wine in her hand. "Last month. After we were done with Terry. The poker game." She raised her eyes and looked at him directly. "Danny always watches when it's your turn to deal."

He met her gaze dead on and didn't try to pretend that he didn't know what she meant. "Yes," he said simply.

Rusty shuffled a deck of cards with impossible skill and grace and Danny watched like a man entranced. And she'd long ago been satisfied that there was nothing sexual between them. That wasn't what this was about, but she liked the intensity in Danny's eyes. She wanted it for herself.

She laid a deck of cards down on the table. "Teach me," she requested.

His eyes were sparkling, his interest well and truly caught. "You want me to teach you how to shuffle cards for Danny's birthday."

She sipped at her wine. "Everyone's coming over. And with _your _friends, someone's going to suggest cards at some point. I want to surprise him."

"Surprise him," Rusty repeated, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes," she agreed. "Surprise is important in long term relationships, Rusty."

He looked thoughtful and she had the strangest feeling that he was making a mental note. "I'm _good _at surprise," he mused aloud.

"I'm quite sure you are," she told him dryly. "So can we do this?"

He picked up the deck of cards and, with a twist of his fingers, tumbled the cards from one hand to the other. "In a week? You won't be ready for Vegas. But you'll definitely get Danny's attention."

She watched the cards dance and wondered if she could learn to do that.

"It's not just about the shuffling," Rusty went on, watching her carefully. "It's about knowing what card goes where." As he spoke, he dealt both of them a Royal Flush, hearts and diamonds.

"Cheating," she translated.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That a problem?"

"I was a master thief last month," she said, with a careful, nonchalant shrug. "Why not a cardsharp?" She'd do anything for Danny.

Rusty grinned. "Okay then. You know if we're having these lessons, Danny's going to notice something."

Yes. He was. And with his birthday a week away, he was going to figure out _some _of it, and the rest was going to drive him absolutely crazy. She smiled. "Ten dollars says he gives up and asks in two days."

"Three," Rusty countered happily. He picked up the cards again. "Okay. Let's start with the riffle shuffle."

She watched carefully and she could see what fascinated Danny.

Oh, this was going to be fun.


	41. Heading Home

**A/N: Random story today. And it is, in fact, part of the 'Falling like Dominoes' verse. Though set long before that story. And you really don't need to have read it to understand this. In fact, I'm confident that only me (and possibly InSilva) will understand why it's in 'Falling like Dominoes' verse. On account of how I haven't written the relevant chapter yet. ;)**

* * *

"And now the end is near and so I face the shower curtain..."

"..."

"...My friends, I've said it once, I've told you twice, get out my bathroom..."

"...mmm...wha'?"

"...I want a towel that's clean, you took my soap and ate my loofah..."

"...Danny?"

"And more, much more than this, get out my bathroom."

"You're..."_ *yawn*_ "...You're no fun to wake up to, you know that?"

"Oh. You're awake."

"Yeah."

"The radio was on."

"Yeah_."_

"I was bored."

"Uh _huh_.... 's dark. What time is it?"

"Little after ten."

"I've been asleep for – "

" – four hours."

"You let me sleep for four hours?"

"You needed it. How you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...it hurts."

"I know, Rus'. You're due another pain pill."

"Doesn't hurt that much."

"Whose – "

" – keep your eyes on the road, will you?"

"Right. Whose pain scale are we using here? Pinhead's?"

"...?"

"Hellraiser."

"Oh. Haven't seen it."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"I saw it a couple of months back. In San Francisco. Where were you?"

"_Oh..._Carla, that tattooist with the place on the beach, remember? She made us iced tea. Said you needed a lion on your chest."

"You gonna take a pill or not?"

"..."

"And just so we're clear there's only one right answer to that."

"..."

"Good. Think they're in the glove compartment..."

"You want to try keeping at least _one _hand somewhere near the steering wheel?"

"You make a lousy passenger. You know that?"

"Well, that seems reasonable. Since you're a lousy driver."

"Take the pill."

"You know what, Danny? I'm fed up of taking pills."

"Rus' – "

" – I'm fed up of sleeping half the time and being drugged up the other half. I'm fed up of not being able to do anything. And I'm fed up of everyone looking at me like I'm going to break."

"You done?"

"Yeah."

"Here."

"Mmm. Danny – "

"I know. 's okay."

"Seriously, I'm sor – "

" – _don't you dare."_

"..."

"You really want to apologise to me, try staying away from women with knives in future."

"Sure. I'll try. Just for you."

"..."

"..."

"I notice that time you were okay with me taking my hand off the wheel."

"That time you were still looking where...Danny?"

"Uh huh."

"Where the fuck are we?"

"Mmm."

"What?"

"I was _really _hoping you weren't going to ask that question."

"The freeway seems to have turned into fields of corn."

"Yeah...I noticed that too."

"You wanna – "

" – there was a sign. It said 'diversion'. I got confused."

"How long ago was that?"

"Few hours ago, maybe."

"And it's been corn ever since?"

"For a while there was a lake. The sun was setting over it. Was really quite something."

"And you didn't wake me?"

"For the sunset?"

"For the lost."

"Right. So do _you _know where we are?"

"Well, I think we must be somewhere near Ma and Pa Kent's place. Keep your eyes peeled for a man in a red cape. Maybe he knows how we can get home."

"Funny."

"Actually, you ever wonder about that?"

"What?"

"How come Superman never gets lost? I mean he's just flying round the world, right? It all must pretty much look the same. How come he never takes a wrong turn and wind up in Alberquerque?"

"He navigates the same way birds do, I guess."

"..."

"What?"

"Actually, how do we know that birds never get lost?"

"Can we focus on the part where _we're _lost?"

"We're in Missouri."

"Really."

"We just passed a sign that was pointing to Lock Springs."

"Huh."

"_Missouri, _Danny. At some point we're gonna have to discuss how you did that."

"Sure. Just as soon as we get through discussing the fact that you know the name and location of every town in the US."

"...I got bored and read the road atlas."

"Right. How bored do you – "

" – you'd be surprised."

"Oh, constantly."

"You know we're going the wrong way, right?"

"Well, I figured that's how we wound up in Missouri."

"No, I mean we're literally going the wrong way. We're heading south."

"Oh."

"We live in New York."

"You know, I actually knew that."

"_Did _you."

"Wait, how do you know we're going south?"

"See those stars in the rear view mirror?"

"Uh..."

"That's the Little Dipper. And that _there _is the North Star. You know what that means?"

"...You know more about space than I thought?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"David told me."

"David knows about space?"

"He wanted to be an astronomer for a while."

"_David _wanted to be an astronomer?"

"When we were kids, yeah. He used to take me to the park sometimes. Got us away from the house. He'd buy me a hotdog and tell me the names of the stars."

"..."

"That's Libra there. Your star sign. The scales."

"Always knew I was the well balanced one."

"Common sign of Librans is that they can't tell north from south."

"Okay, okay...so I'm guessing that we're going to have to turn the car around."

"Yeah..."

"...You – "

" – my back's a little stiff, that's all."

"Uh huh. We should find a motel."

"So far we found corn."

"You're supposed to rest. I should've...Rus', I'm – "

" – hush. I don't get to say it, you don't get to say it."

"..."

"Eyes on the road!"

"Back seat driver."

"This is a two-seater."

"Well, there's only two of us."

"Funny how that works out."

"Ow!"

"Rus'..."

"I'm fine."

"Motel. I want to get you into bed."

"Promises, promises."

"Sorry, but I can offer you blankets, chocolate and maybe even a bath."

"Mmmm. For that I think I'd go to bed with anyone."

"I'll make sure not to spread that around."

"Wish we could fly."

"We back onto Superman again?"

"We were on a plane we'd be home by now. And there'd be people bringing us coffee and peanuts. And we wouldn't have wound up anywhere near Missouri."

"Well – "

" – seriously, how _did _you do that?"

"I told you. There was a diversion."

"Through two states?"

"I'm feeling pretty diverted."

"We should have flown."

"Stan said not for ten days."

"You still think we should have stayed – "

" – you wanted to go – "

" – I wanted to go home."

"And we're in Missouri."

"...It's okay, Danny."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're here."

"..."

"..."

"...You really want me to find you that chocolate, don't you."


	42. 3 x relationships

**A/N: Three short pieces that are all vaguely on the theme of relationships. Just things that have been written, or at least been floating round my head, for ages without me ever actually finding a place for them in longer fic. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**What we put up with**

Isabel had grown up listening to her father's stories about cons and jobs he'd put together. She knew the way things worked but she couldn't dream the schemes up in the first place, couldn't work out all the myriad details that would hold the plan together.

She was a damned good detective and she could look at the aftermath and know what the culprits had done, and maybe even anticipate what they'd do next, and that had served her well in the past.

Only now, these days, the culprit was the love of her life and the problem was that she didn't know how to help him.

Getting to Art Lester was obviously more difficult than they'd imagined and Robert's brow seemed permanently furrowed, like there was always some thought, some solution just out of his grasp.

This was the first time that she'd had a chance to spend any time with Robert, And he'd been so tired that all he'd really managed to do was smile tenderly at her and lie down on the bed.

"How's it going?" she asked after a moment.

He shrugged dispiritedly. "Not good. We can't figure out how to get the transmission equipment through the metal detector."

"Oh." She thought for a few moments, thinking through stories that Dad had told her. Nothing was coming to mind. "I don't know."

"Thanks," he told her absently, running a hand across his forehead. "Just getting to the stage where every time I close my eyes I see that damn doorway. Danny figured that we should give it a rest for the evening." He grinned. "Actually, I think Tess said and Danny figured."

She reached up a hand and pressed it to the side of his face. "Maybe you need to stop thinking for a while."

He smiled.

Later – much later – and she was lying in his arms, and certainly she was feeling relaxed and content. And for a while all Robert's attention had undoubtedly been with her, but now his fingers were rubbing slowly round the outside of his mouth and his eyes were somewhere far away.

"You know, it's your pillow talk that really makes me feel so special," she told him with a smile.

He blinked and looked at her. "Flowers," he said laconically.

She paused carefully. "Well, you can never really go wrong with them," she agreed. "Though personally I think a nice box of chocolates is always more welcome."

"There's fresh flowers in the house every day. But they don't go through the front door. And the hallway is forty foot and the lounge is only thirty eight and a half foot..." He sighed. "How could I have missed that? I need to talk to Danny."

"It's two in the morning," Isabel pointed out, as he scrambled out of bed. It didn't look like he was going to listen. She wasn't surprised. "Trousers!" she called sharply, as he headed for the door.

He paused and looked back at her and then looked down at himself. "Oh. Thank you." He pulled some clothes on and rushed out. She shook her head, smiling to herself, dressed more leisurely, and by the time she got into the corridor, Robert was standing in front of the next door along, apparently having successfully woken Danny and Tess.

"The hallway's longer - " Rusty was saying intently.

" - the flowers," Danny nodded, as if the universe suddenly made sense again. "Of course."

"We need to - "

" - check the basement - "

" - and the - "

" - streetlights."

"Streetlights? Oh. Streetlights. You're right. And the wires."

Isabel caught Tess' eye and shared the moment of unspoken amusement and frustration. "Can I take it that you need to go investigate something?" she asked Danny sweetly.

"And that it can't possibly wait till morning?" Tess chimed in, looking at Robert.

Between them they managed a look of guilt and apology. "Sorry," Robert began. It really is - "

" - it really is," Danny agreed.

Once they'd watched the boys disappear down the corridor, Isabel turned to Tess. "So what do you think?"

"I've got a bottle of wine," Tess offered.

"I've got a bottle of tequila," Isabel countered. "And some lime. And salt."

Tess smiled. "I've got Top Gun on DVD."

"And I know where I can lay my hands on Robert's supply of animal crackers," Isabel added

"And when we're done with the movie - " Tess began, smiling with anticipation.

Isabel was already nodding. " - we can start swapping stories."

Sounded like a good night.

* * *

**Curtains**

"So we're clear? Me and Rusty can work the inside and . . . " Danny frowned. Linus was fidgeting. "Yes, Linus?"

"Uh, it's just that, well, um . . . "

"Yes?" Danny asked patiently.

"You're going to pretend to be a couple?" Linus blurted out.

"That's the plan," Rusty agreed.

"But won't . . . I mean, what if . . . .won't you need to do coupley things?"

Rusty frowned.. "Like picking out curtains?"

Danny turned to stare at him. "Isabel?"

"Johnny," Rusty explained.

Danny blinked. "You never lived with Johnny."

Rusty grinned. "That wasn't what he wanted the curtains for."

"Right," Danny blinked. "We'll come back to that when I've got a few days spare. Anyway, no Linus, we're not going to pick out curtains."

Linus tried to count to ten in his head. He got as far as three. "That wasn't what I meant!"

"Well, what did you mean?" Danny asked, with a smile.

"You know - couply things. Romantic things." He lowered his voice. "Touching, and kissing and stuff."

Danny shrugged "Probably - "

" - I'd think they'd expect it," Rusty agreed.

Linus' eyes grew wide and he stuttered incoherently for a moment.

Danny sighed and reached over and ran a gentle hand through Rusty's hair. Then he closed his eyes, leaned in and for a moment all there was was passion and tenderness and kissing.

When they broke apart, Rusty was grinning. Danny smirked back and they both turned round to face Linus. "Any questions?"

After a few attempts, Linus managed to stop opening and closing his mouth long enough to squeak "Oh, more than I can count."

* * *

**Uncertainty Principles**

It just made him uncomfortable, that was all. Even though he was sure he was wrong or imagining it or suffering from complete and irrevocable delusions...it still made him uncomfortable.

He was imagining thing. He had to be. Because Rusty had gone out to Dallas overnight to meet with Esperanza to pick up the Florentine negatives.

("_Negatives," Livingston had asked with a frown. "Who uses negatives anymore?"_

_Rusty's grin had been full of history and affection. "Esperanza is an old-fashioned kind of girl." _

And then, this morning, Rusty had come back relaxed and happy, a bounce in his step, and as he'd walked into the hotel restaurant and swiped Danny's muffin, Danny had looked up at him and he'd known that Rusty had had sex last night. Good sex at that.

Affection. History. And once upon a time that would have been fine. Expected, even, and Danny wouldn't even have thought twice about it.

But there was Isabel now.

Isabel; and Rusty had been happy and serious – serious enough for them to get arrested, after all – and Danny _had _to be imagining things, he really, truly had to be.

Only Rusty didn't really do relationships. And it had been six months now and that was six months longer than Rusty had lived with _anyone _before.

It hurt, because it wasn't _right _and it left him not knowing what to say to Rusty, not knowing where to look, and he'd actually found himself avoiding Rusty for the rest of the day.

Danny. Avoiding Rusty. Oh, he didn't even know how to explain how not-right that was.

Should've known it couldn't last, of course, and when he went up to his room in the evening, Rusty was calmly sitting on Danny's bed, watching 'The Three Musketeers' and eating popcorn.

"You had to get crumbs in _my _sheets?" Danny asked at once, but the banter was forced.

"Uh huh," Rusty agreed. "I need to sleep in my bed." He looked up, his lips pursed. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Danny said immediately and with conviction.

Rusty continued to look at him.

"Really nothing," he tried. He sighed and sat down on the bed beside Rusty, absently taking a handful of popcorn. "So I guess Dallas suited you, huh?"

He could feel the weight of Rusty's gaze on the side of his head. Could feel the heat rising in his face.

"I mean, it must've been nice seeing Esperanza again. She was always...nice. And...look, maybe it shouldn't be my business, but it is, and I just think that you need to think more clearly. I mean...I mean..." He turned his head sharply, and was confronted by the carefully hidden sparkle in Rusty's eyes. He sighed. "I mean, how come you didn't tell me Isabel was going to be in Dallas?"

"It was sort of last minute," Rusty said with an almost-apologetic smile. "She was flying out to Amsterdam for her friend Shona's baby shower. She managed to get a stopover. It was all very..." The smile changed noticeably. "Surprising."

Danny lay back on the bed heavily. "All day I've been - "

" - I know," Rusty nodded. Then he threw a handful of popcorn in Danny's face.

"Hey!" Danny objected, sitting up sharply. "What was that for?"

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "You thought I was being unfaithful?"

"Not really," Danny temporised. He sighed unhappily. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed cheerfully, throwing another handful.

"Didn't deserve _that_," Danny protested, grabbing a handful of his own and throwing it at Rusty.

Twenty minutes later, and the minibar was devoid of snack food while the room was newly decorated with popcorn, chips and animal crackers.

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully, wincing as the carpet crunched beneath his feet. "Not so sure that I'm going to be able to sleep here tonight."

"There's my room," Rusty suggested brightly. "Unless you feel that I shouldn't be inviting strange men into my bed?"

"You calling me strange?" Danny asked mildly.

Rusty made a show of looking round the hotel room, his gaze lingering on the upside down lamp, the tower of plastic beakers, the pillowcase flag... "I don't know that anyone would disagree."

"Huh," Danny said sullenly. "With lines like these I'm amazed you get anyone back to your room."

Rusty grabbed his arm as they walked out the door. "It's serious, Danny. I know what I'm doing." His eyes were full of wonder, and really, Danny had already known that.

He reached up and squeezed Rusty's hand lightly. "Good," he said simply. "I'm glad."

* * *

**A/N: And a special bonus piece that has _nothing _to do with the chapter theme! And may not amuse anyone other than me! **

**

* * *

**

**Jokers**

"I don't believe you said that," Danny said, for about the fourth time.

"Shut up and run?" Rusty suggested, glancing over his shoulder to see if their pursuers were anywhere near.

Danny looked round quickly. "We okay?"

"We're not dead," Rusty offered with a shrug.

"Right," Danny nodded. "And I don't believe you actually said that."

"I wanted him distracted," Rusty explained. "He was distracted."

"Right," Danny agreed, a little doubtfully.

The guy had been pretty distracted, he had to concede.

They'd been searching through the Fed Ex warehouse, looking for the parcel from Simon Melville...or the crate with the Ark of the Covenant. Whichever they found first.

The guy had stepped out of nowhere, pointing the gun at Rusty's head.

Danny had been on the other side of the warehouse, and he'd stood stock still. frightened that if he moved the guy would shoot.

As he watched, Rusty had stood up straight slowly, and turned round, the little jewelled knife in his hand. The blade was gold. Probably it wasn't sharp enough to cut milk. But that didn't matter. Because the smile playing around Rusty's mouth was sharp enough to cut diamonds.

"Hey," Rusty breathed softly, his eyes gleaming, spinning the knife round and round between his fingers, and Danny actually saw the guy take a step back.

"What the fuck?" the guy asked blankly.

The smile widened noticeably. "Why so serious?"

"What the _fuck_?" the guy repeated shrilly, and Danny was actually in complete agreement.

Now the smile widened impossibly. Crazily. "Why. So. Serious?" Rusty said again, and Danny took advantage of the moment of complete distraction to step behind the guy and hit him over the head smartly with a rather heavy package.

"I don't believe you just said that," he started to say, and that was when the other men with the other guns came running in, and consequently they started running out.

And a half hour later they were still running. And Danny still couldn't wrap his head round it. "I _still _don't believe you said that," he said, shaking his head.

"Could've been worse," Rusty said, as the bullet ricocheted off the wall in front of him. "I could have asked him if he'd ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight."

Danny glared. "Shut up and run," he advised.

* * *

***shrug* Last piece may not be understood by anyone other than Batman fans. I'm now going to go and work on the next chapter of 'The more things change'. Which may yet be finished in our lifetimes. May not be less than forty pages, but it may be _finished..._**


	43. Vacation

**A/N: For various reasons this might look like a birthday fic. But it's not. But it _is _for InSilva who nonetheless asked for it. Happy UnBirthday, mate.**

* * *

In many ways it seemed as if life had gone fundamentally wrong. They were stranded more or less in the middle of nowhere, they had no money and no tickets back to the states and they'd left their suitcases a couple of countries back.

On the other hand the 'middle of nowhere' came equipped with a vast sandy beach, a sparkling blue sea that was warm to touch, a surprisingly luxurious hotel and a legal drinking age that meant that they didn't even get carded. So Danny wasn't too convinced that they were exactly falling over themselves to try and fix the problem.

Eventually something would turn up. Or else they'd finally get bored of idle luxury. Or, possibly, someone from the hotel would see them together and realise that they couldn't _possibly _be Mr and Mrs Albert Smith enjoying their honeymoon. That would mean an end to the daily complimentary champagne. Actually, that would mean an end to their whole poolside apartment. Which would be a pity.

In the meantime Danny was lying in bed, sipping iced tea, enjoying the breeze coming through the window, absently flicking through a glossy magazine written in a language he didn't understand and waiting for Rusty to come in.

There had been a party the previous night. Actually, there had been a party every night that they'd been here so first, but this one had included a blonde, Swedish backpacker named Ingrid who had been working her way through a list of things to do before grad school. Seemed like she'd taken one look at Rusty and added him to the list. When he finally showed up Danny was planning on making a comment about the lure of older women. And possibly Vikings. The lure of older Vikings. Definitely.

It was still early and he must have fallen asleep again because he woke with the vague realisation that there'd been an awful lot of noise outside his bedroom door.

Curious and slightly concerned he got up only to find that his bedroom door was blocked by Rusty wearing electric blue shorts and a broad smile. "Hi."

"Morning." Danny raised an expectant eyebrow and Rusty's foot was wedged firmly in front of the door. "There some reason you want to keep me in bed today?"

The grin widened. "So many ways of answering that."

"Can we try the truth?" Danny suggested mildly.

"I need you not to be mad at me," Rusty explained with the sort of charming and hopeful smile that had a long history of working on a great many people who weren't Danny.

"Uh huh." With a sense of great foreboding Danny pushed the door a little harder and Rusty moved out of the way obligingly.

Barely a step into the living room and he stopped short and stared. Right. Okay. Deep breaths.

"Rusty?" he began, very calmly. "Is there any particular reason why there's a donkey in the living room?"

"Don't worry," Rusty assured him gravely. "I put newspaper down."

He had. Probably every newspaper that had been delivered to the hotel that morning. And Danny would agree that was good thinking, but really, it didn't answer his question _at all._

"This donkey," he tried.

"Her name is Spearmint," Rusty told him helpfully.

"Spearmint?" he said before he could help himself and the donkey looked round at him mournfully. It was somewhat disconcerting.

Rusty shrugged. "I didn't name her."

"Where did you get her?" he asked. "No, wait, let me guess. She just followed you home, am I right?"

Rusty nodded seriously and fluttered his eyelashes appealingly. "Can I keep her?"

"Rus'..." Danny laughed.

"I won her," Rusty explained and here was truth at last. "In a poker game."

"You won her." Danny frowned. "Why did you get into a poker game with a donkey in the pot in the first place?"

Rusty shifted uncomfortably and didn't answer.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "Because you _wanted _to win her," he stated with absolute certainty.

"The guy that owned her kept hitting her with a stick, Danny," Rusty told him unrepentantly. "Look, she's all bruised."

Danny did look. And yes, the donkey did look mistreated and pathetic, and yes, of course he was against animal cruelty, and he'd far rather that the donkey – Spearmint, if Rusty absolutely insisted – wasn't being hurt. That just didn't alter the absolutely inescapable fact that there was a donkey in their living room where no donkey should be.

He just knew he was going to regret asking. "Why did you bring her in here?"

"Thought if I left her by the pool someone might notice," Rusty said with a shrug.

There was a certain logic there. Danny had a feeling that donkeys were probably banned from most good hotels. "You even thought what we're going to do with her?"

"Yes," Rusty answered surprisingly . "Remember the first night we were here? Andreas, that guy who was on life guard duty? Was working three jobs to put his son through college? Lifeguard here, waiter in the restaurant in town and – "

" – odd jobs at the donkey sanctuary." Danny nodded. He frowned. "He didn't say where the donkey sanctuary was, did he?"

"No, but I figured we could ask him," Rusty said brightly.

Danny nodded. Yeah. Why not? They could ask him. "Any chance he's by the pool?" he asked hopefully.

"Nah, he'll be in town," Rusty said like this was no problem.

Right. Thing was, they weren't exactly sure where town _was. _They'd landed at the airport and there'd been a convenient driver who'd been happy to believe they were whoever he wanted them to be and he'd taken them to a convenient boat who'd been even less bothered and the boat had fetched up at the hotel. Town was somewhere along the beach, that was as far as he knew.

Oh, well. Wasn't like he'd had any other plans for the day. "Come on," Danny grinned. "Let's take your ass for a walk."

* * *

It was hot. It was very, very, absolutely and unbelievably, stiflingly hot, and Danny was decidedly uncomfortable and thinking uncharitable thoughts about donkeys who'd dragged him out of nice, air-conditioned hotel rooms.

"Don't glare at Spearmint, take your shirt off," Rusty advised lazily.

He paused, and he could see the logic in that, actually.

"Exactly," Rusty agreed helpfully. "Besides. It's an ugly shirt."

"Hey!" he objected. Then he sighed. Yeah. It wasn't particularly wonderful. The choices at the airport had been decidedly limited. Particularly on no budget. He removed the shirt and draped it over his arm.

"Much better," Rusty approved. "You definitely look better topless."

He glared half-heartedly. "So where did you find a poker game with a donkey in the pot anyway?"

"Half a mile or so that way," Rusty explained, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "We should probably avoid that side of the beach."

Yeah. He could do that. "That when you were getting back from Ingrid's hotel?"

Rusty shrugged. "She was staying in town. We decided not to go that far."

"Oh." Danny glanced at him. "Suppose that explains the sand in your hair."

"Starlight is romantic," Rusty said firmly, shaking his head and dislodging a couple of handfuls of sand. "And I think I've got sand _everywhere._"

Danny grinned. "That's the problem with frolicking – "

" – that what we're calling it now?" Rusty wondered.

" – on the beach," Danny finished, ignoring him. "Well, that and the tide coming in."

"Yeah." Rusty glanced at the sea. "Speaking of which, does the water look a little closer to you?"

Danny followed his gaze. Then he looked round at the clear expanse of beach and the sheer cliff face towering over them to their right. "Let's walk a bit faster," he suggested.

* * *

The tide was definitely coming in. In fact, now it was lapping around their feet and 'walking a bit faster' had become 'running'.

"I never thought I'd die in a donkey-related drowning mishap," Danny panted, as they sprinted along as fast as two men and a donkey could possibly go.

"Really?" Rusty asked. "Because that's _exactly _how I thought I'd go."

"That was true, you should've thought twice before acquiring the donkey," Danny pointed out.

Rusty shrugged. "I like to live life on the edge," he said, as a particularly large wave hit halfway up their waists, nearly knocking them off their feet.

"Think we are," Danny commented, and really, he had a feeling they might really be in trouble here. The swell of the waves was pressing round their legs.

"Something just ran over my foot!" Rusty hissed, sounding concerned.

"You think it was a fish?" Danny asked, staring down as they ran. He didn't particularly like fish.

"Or a crab," Rusty agreed, grimacing.

They kept running. It was getting difficult.

"I'm glad _I'm _wearing shoes," he said after a second.

Rusty looked at him. "Uh huh. You think you're going to be able to wear those shoes again?"

Oh. Hell. They were currently his only pair.

"What's that?" Rusty asked sharply, staring a little further along the beach.

Danny squinted. Looked like... "Stairs," he breathed, relieved. Stairs cut into the cliff face, and looked like there were buildings at the top. Must be the town at last. "Come on."

A wave actually splashed over his shoulders and for a second he lost his footing and Rusty's hand was tight in his and between them they managed to struggle onto the first stone step, dragging the donkey behind them.

"How we going to get her up the stairs?" Danny wondered.

Rusty pursed his lips. "You can't get a donkey down a minaret. Therefore there must be a way to get a donkey up a minaret. Therefore donkeys can climb stairs."

Danny frowned. "This _isn't _a minaret."

"You sure?" Rusty wondered. "I've never been sure what a minaret is."

"Don't think this is one," Danny said, reaching back and putting a hand on Spearmint's halter. He tried to smile charmingly at the donkey. "You want to come up the stairs?" he asked hopefully.

* * *

Getting a donkey up a set of stairs probably wasn't something that Danny should be proud of. But he was. It had taken a bit of pushing, pulling and coaxing but they'd got Spearmint all the way up to the top.

Breathless, he sat on a low wall while Spearmint wandered off in search of grass and Rusty stared all the way back down the cliff with an expression of interest. "You know, the water's halfway up the stairs now," Rusty remarked.

Danny pulled his shoe off mournfully and watched it more or less disintegrate in his hand. "Uh huh."

"Good thing we didn't die," Rusty said cheerfully.

It normally was. With a sigh he hauled off his other shoe. Might as well give them up as a lost cause. And, he realised suddenly, he must have let go of his shirt at some point. Great...just, great.

He glanced up and they were on the edge of town. "So where do you think Andreas will be?" he asked.

Rusty shrugged. "Figured we'd start at the restaurant."

"Sounds good," Danny agreed, springing to his feet. No point in worrying about things. "Grab your ass and lets go."

"Eventually you're going to get tired of that joke," Rusty told him seriously.

Danny grinned. "Eventually. Not yet."

They strolled into town, two men soaked through and dressed only in shorts leading a bedraggled looking donkey.

For some reason they were getting rather a lot of looks.

Smiling and relaxed, they strolled into the town square and looked round. A couple of teenage girls were following them at a distance, giggling shyly. Two old men playing pocket chess outside a bar were staring, their pipes forgotten. A group of tutting women were alternating between giving them disapproving looks and sneaking peeks.

They were successfully ignoring the lot of them.

"There's the restaurant," Rusty said, pointing.

Danny squinted. "Look's closed."

"It's not even lunchtime," Rusty pointed out. "Probably _is _closed."

Huh. Oh, well. Might as well give it a shot. He walked up to the door and knocked.

"Hi," he said, smiling broadly as the door was opened and a balding man peered out. "We're looking for Andreas?"

The man looked at him uncomprehendingly. "No shirt, no shoes, no service," he said at last, apparently reading off the sign on the door in a thick accent.

Right. He glanced back at Rusty, hoping for some kind of help. The moment he looked away the door slammed shut.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Rusty grinned and looked over to the other side of the square. "We could get some shirts."

Danny followed his gaze. There was a touristy looking beach shop there. "We got money now?" he checked.

There was another grin and Rusty pulled a lump of papaer out of his pocket. "In the pot along with Spearmint," he explained. "Little bit damp, but it's still money. You wait here with Spearmint," he added, disappearing rapidly.

Danny gave Spearmint a long, searching look. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Spearmint didn't look like she cared.

Rusty was back a few minutes later and the amusement in his eyes was enough to make Danny wish he'd stayed in bed.

"Shirts," Rusty announced happily, pulling two gaudy monstrosities out of the back. "Hawaiian shirts."

Danny stared. One was mint green with hundreds of little palm trees and multicoloured parrots. The other was hot pink with a pattern of electric blue waterfalls and bright orange sunsets. They were, quite simply, the most hideous pieces of clothing he'd ever seen. And he'd known Rusty for a long time now.

He looked up slowly. "You want me to wear that?"

"Yeah," Rusty said with a shrug.

He sighed. "Suppose I should be grateful that they don't quite match."

Rusty looked sulky. "They only had one in each design."

Oh, he should be thankful for small mercies.

With as much dignity as he could muster, he picked up the green shirt and put it on with an expression of distaste. Behind them he could hear the teenagers giggling a little more.

"Shoes?" he asked Rusty hopefully.

Rusty's eyes were bright and he produced two pairs of flip flops from the bag.

"Of course," Danny nodded, slipping them on. "You're enjoying this."

"Of course I am," Rusty agreed. "You going to try the door again?"

He knocked and the man opened the door. Then he opened it a little further. Then he stood and stared like he wasn't quite sure what he was looking at.

"We're looking for Andreas?" Danny asked again.

The man stared at him and then he carefully closed the door in Danny's face.

He looked back at Rusty. "You know, if I had any other partner in the world, this wouldn't be happening to me."

Rusty smiled. "If you had any other partner in the world you wouldn't be having half as much fun."

Danny was saved from having to answer by the door opening again.

This time a middle aged woman was standing there, doing quite a good job of hiding her giggles behind her hand. "Yes?" she said politely.

"Hi there," Danny smiled. "We're looking for Andreas?"

"My brother," she nodded. "I will go and get him. She looked behind them and blinked at Spearmint, then, shaking her head, she retreated inside.

A few minutes later and Andreas appeared, laughing to himself. "Danny! Rusty! I _thought _it would be you."

Huh. Danny honestly wasn't quite sure _what _that said about them.

"Hi Andreas," Rusty said cheerfully. "We've got this donkey."

Andreas glanced over at Spearmint and laughed some more. "Yes, I see that."

"And we're not sure what to do with her," Danny went on.

"We were thinking – "

" – hoping – "

" – if you wouldn't mind – "

" – not that we would want to – "

" – well, obviously – "

" – but you see – "

Andreas held up his hands. "Enough, I get it," he said. "Yes, the sanctuary should be able to take in your donkey and find her a new home."

"Good," Rusty smiled, sounding relieved.

Danny looked pensive. "I think I'm gonna miss her," he remarked.

Rusty and Andreas both looked at him.

He grinned. "What?"

Andreas laughed and they seemed to be the most amusing thing that had happened for a while. "Let me go and make some phonecalls," he proposed. "They'll need to send a trailer. And while we're waiting, how about we have a few drinks?"

Sounded good to Danny.

* * *

A few drinks turned out to be many drinks. In fact, they were still drinking long after they'd waved a solemn goodbye to Spearmint and Rusty had given the rest of the money as a donation to the donkey sanctuary.

But that was okay because Andreas and his friends were more than happy to keep buying them drinks, and Andreas' sister Philana kept bringing them food, and they had a wealth of farfetched stories and unbelievable jokes and impossible dares and bets, and for most of the afternoon and evening they were sitting outside the restaurant, surrounded by new and amused friends.

A casual remark as the evening was drawing to a close, and Pitor, who was possibly Andreas' brother-in-law, offered to give them a ride out to the airport.

They exchanged a long look. Yeah. Yeah, it was time to move on.

They still had no money. No plane tickets. They were dressed in the most ridiculous outfits Danny had ever worn, more than a little drunk, and Rusty appeared to be attempting to flirt with the local police officer.

There were ways in which life could be said to have gone fundamentally wrong.

And Danny couldn't be happier.


	44. Best kind of party

**A/N: Short piece of nonsense, written on my lunchbreak. I figured why not post? Feel free to answer that question, if you like. ;) **

* * *

"'Scuse me...sorry...coming though...thank you ma'am, I mean sir, I mean - huh... excuse me...Oh. Mmm. Oh, well...Geronimo!"

"Oof. Careful!"

"Sorry to drop in on...huh."

"Of all the nooks in all the world, you had to drop into mine."

"Rusty?"

"Huh. Right first time."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hiding. Care to join me?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Thought you were – "

" – thought _you _were."

"Yeah..."

"Yeah..."

"Started off as a good party."

"Right."

"You know when Phil said that we couldn't have fun for a whole weekend without seeing each other? I don't think this is what he had in mind."

"Shhh...they'll hear you."

"Who?"

"..."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"That's a lot of zombies."

"You're telling me."

"So how did you recognise me?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Apart from that."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm in disguise."

"Yeah, well. Apart from – "

" – right, apart from – "

" – you're the only guy in the world who can have someone land on top of him and manage not to spill one drop of his banana daiquiri."

"Oh."

"Not your first, huh?"

"Not my fifth...Uh oh."

"Rusty?"

"Think they're coming this way."

"Fuck."

"Not to mention..."

"...What?"

"I don't want to mention it."

"_What?" _

"Zombies to the left of us...and to the _right _of us..."

"Where did _they _come from?"

"I _really _don't want to mention it."

"Uh _huh. _Run?"

"Run. This way"

"Where are we – "

" – the kitchens."

"Ask a stupid question..."

"Speaking of which, where did you even _find _that many zombies?"

"They found me."

"Of course they did."

"Hey, they're after brains, right?"

"Mmm. Think we've just proved that's nothing more than a rumour."

"I do too have brains."

"So who are the zombies when they're not zombies?"

"Think they're some sort of amateur sports team."

"You tell 'em they couldn't control their balls?"

"There was this girl..."

"Ah."

"Yeah. She didn't _say _she had a boyfriend."

"Next time, ask."

"Thanks for the advice."

"So she was dating one of the zombies? Didn't know you were into necrophiliacs."

"Funny. Don't even know which one. They got some kind of Three Musketeers thing gong on. All for one – "

" – Look out for the canapés!"

"Duck!"

"Think it's chicken, actually. Mmm. Tastes good. Want some?"

"How are you even eating through that...okay. Sorry, Rus'. Have to ask. Why are you wearing an alligator mask?"

"It _is _a carnival. Everyone else is wearing costumes. Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, for a start, the rest of your costume is nothing like an alligator."

"Borrowed the mask when hiding became important."

"Uh huh."

"Thought it would help me blend in."

"I take it you came up with this plan after the banana daiquiris."

"Oh, long after. Still, at least I'm _wearing _a costume. Phil said that we should have fun."

"Some of us don't need to dress up in...whatever...to have fun."

"Still think you could have made a bit of an effort.

"I did."

"You did?"

"I'm – "

" – James Bond. Of course you are. There's the kitchens and..."

"Oh – "

" – _hell. _This way!"

"_This _way."

"Up the stairs?"

"Least we'll lose the zombies."

"What?"

"Zombies can't climb stairs!"

"That's Daleks!"

"That's what now?"

"Daleks...I was at Roman's place, with Livingston for a while and we were watching...ah, never mind."

"Right."

"Zombies _can _climb stairs."

"Rusty?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not imagining things, am I? Those are McCourt's men?"

"Mmm."

"Mmm?"

"I really, _really _don't want to mention it."

"..."

"I might have accidentally, ever so slightly..._hitonCharlesMcCourt._" *cough*

"..."

"Okay, this way."

"..."

"Can you get that door shut?"

"...you did _what?" _

"Okay, _I'll _get it."

"So let me get this straight. We steal a bunch of gold bars from a man one day. Then the _very next day_ you see him at a party and you decide to take a shot?"

"I like to live dangerously."

"He's not even nice looking!"

"I'm sure he'll be heartbroken to hear you say so. Which you'll probably get a chance to do, unless you come over here and help me with this window."

"Our lives or finding out why you hit on McCourt...tough call."

"There was this matador."

"Right...?"

"He had a nice smile and a billowing cape. We were dancing. I went to get us some drinks. When I came back there were lots of people. I saw his cape across the room – "

" – More than one cape in town?"

"Those things are _identical._ A_ha!_"

"About time. Someone's kicking the door in."

"Think it's the zombie horde. You coming?"

"You know, this was a great party. We should leave all parties by the bathroom window."

"I thought we did."

"So what are we going to tell Phil?"

"I'd thought about that, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Let's lie."

"Good thought. On three?"

"One...two..."

"Geronimo!"


	45. It's a small world after all

**There are good coincidences...**

* * *

The flight was delayed, annoyingly enough. Not least because it left Linus trying to cope with a bored Danny and Rusty when he was still hungover from last night. He wanted to lie down in a darkened room somewhere, not follow Danny and Rusty around all the shops in the airport, looking for chocolate peanuts, plastic drinking straws, a deck of cards and the right kind of sticky tape. He wasn't sure what they were trying to do and he absolutely wasn't going to ask. Why did they never get hangovers, that's what he wanted to know. He knew they'd drank at _least _as much as him. More, in fact, because he was pretty sure they'd taken the last bottle to bed with them. Not that they'd...at least he was pretty sure they hadn't...at any rate, he absolutely wasn't thinking about it. Not even a little.

At any rate, it wasn't a good morning, and Reuben and Basher weren't exactly helping matters either. They were doing a fine job of encouraging whatever Danny and Rusty were doing and, when they were all sat round the table at Starbucks, Basher was the one winding straws and sticky tape together.

Linus stared at the cup of coffee in front of him vacantly and considered falling asleep.

The voice came out of nowhere, sounding surprised and delighted. "Leo!"

An instant later and a man in his sixties was standing over the table, beaming at Rusty like he'd never been so pleased to see anyone in his life.

"Well, I never expected to see you again, Leo," the man said, reaching out and shaking Rusty's hand vigorously. "How have you been?"

Linus bit his lip surreptitiously and glanced round. The man seemed to be on his own, which was something. Someone who thought Rusty was someone else. He was probably a mark of some kind. Least he didn't seem to know that he'd been conned.

Danny's gaze flickered around Linus, Basher and Reuben significantly. "Didn't you say you wanted to check at lost property for those sunglasses?" he asked in an undertone.

Linus wasn't going to take the hint. By the looks of things, neither were Reuben or Basher. If things turned nasty – and right now, looking at this genial old man, Linus couldn't imagine how, but if they _did _– they might be able to do something.

"I've been just fine, Gordon," Rusty was saying smoothly, and there was a smile on his face which Linus would _swear _was genuine.

"I don't suppose Leo is actually your real name, of course," Gordon went on blithely.

Linus blinked frantically. _What? _

There was a slight pause and for once Linus didn't feel like he had to be any kind of mind reader, or know any kind of code, Danny's unhappiness was coming across loud and clear. And still, Rusty smiled some more. "Rusty Ryan," he said.

Linus was staring. He had a feeling everyone else was too. Not giving your real name was...well, it probably wasn't the first rule of the con...actually, you know what? It might be.

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you, Rusty," Gordon said, smiling knowingly, and then his expression froze. "Uh, you weren't..._in the middle of anything _were you?" he hissed, glancing round the table anxiously.

"No, you're fine," Danny said, with a smile that was two parts reassurance and one part resignation.

Gordon glanced at him curiously. "You know, I think I remember you..."

Of course he did. Linus didn't think that anyone could ever forget Danny. For the first time, it occurred to him that that was something of a disadvantage.

"So how do you know Rusty then, Gordon?" Reuben asked with a smile. Linus could have groaned. Of course Reuben wasn't going to miss the opportunity to hear a story. Just wasn't in him. Mind you, Linus quite wanted to know the answer to.

"Oh, he robbed me one Christmas," Gordon explained and Basher spat a mouthful of coffee out over the table.

"And you're _okay _with that?" he asked, a second before Linus would have.

Gordon smiled. "It was worth it."

"Take it everything worked out then?" Rusty asked, with what sounded like genuine interest.

"A lifetime of happiness against a fish that I don't remember ever seeing?" Gordon smiled happily. "I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, Leo."

A fish? Really? A fish? Actually, a lifetime of happiness? The curiosity was beginning to beat out the hangover.

"I've got to go," Gordon said, looking at his watch. "They're calling my flight. I'm meeting Christian at the cabin."

"Nice seeing you again, Gordon," Rusty nodded.

"You too. I won't ask you to keep in touch," Gordon said, with one last, fond look.

Linus sighed after he'd left. "So, I guess it's official then. Everyone does like you guys.

Danny grinned. "Oh – "

" – not _everyone," _Rusty finished cheerfully.

Yeah. Everyone. Even people they stole from. He sighed. He'd never have that kind of luck.

* * *

**...and there are bad coincidences**

* * *

In the lamentable absence of any waiter willing to take their drinks order, Danny had gone up to the bar. Shortly after that, Tess had decided that she wanted a Long Island Iced Tea rather than a Buffalo Sour and, in a moment of unexpected chivalry, Rusty had gone to tell Danny for her.

Personally, he'd ordered a Sex on the Beach. Not so much for the taste; he just liked making Danny order it. Though, by the way Isabel had pursed her lips, she knew exactly what he was doing and she was trying her hardest to convince the universe that she didn't find it even the slightest bit amusing.

There was a crowd around the bar; seemed like everyone else in the restaurant was having the exact same problem. He caught sight of Danny and started politely pushing his way through.

"Yuma! I wasn't expecting to see you again. Not in this life, anyway." The voice was genial and the hand that fell on his shoulder was overly familiar.

Took him a split second. Running through places and possibilities, and finally he came up with the answer.

(_Heat and thirst and pain and time and he'd known he was going to die.)_

"Ernesto," he said, smiling and turning round slowly, brushing the hand away with all the casualness he didn't feel. "What a surprise."

He hadn't changed much. Little less hair on top, little more of a beard, but the smile was just the same. And the two slabs of muscle standing on either side of him – they weren't the _same _but they weren't that different either.

He wasn't looking round for Danny. Certainly he wasn't looking anywhere near Tess and Isabel. Instead he was thinking about the nearest exits and about how to run and make sure they followed. This was his fight and his alone.

"Indeed it is," Ernesto agreed cheerfully. "I was so sure you would die. You must tell me why you're still alive."

He was suddenly aware that someone was standing close behind him.

He didn't have to look round.

Danny.

"Clean thoughts and healthy living," Rusty told Ernesto lightly and maybe, somehow, if he could just keep this on the level, Danny wouldn't do anything.

Ernesto laughed. "You know, I know some people who would be very interested to learn of your unexpected good health. Fortunately for you, I no longer work for them."

"Lucky me," Rusty smiled and he turned and stepped sideways swiftly, just in time for his shoulder to meet Danny's chest, just in time to block Danny from the conversation. "Goodbye, Ernesto."

"Perhaps I will see you later, yuma," Ernesto called after him and he was already shoving Danny away, determined to keep the two as far apart as possible.

A second later and Danny's hand was tight around his wrist and they were sitting down at an empty table.

"Tell me," Danny said in a low voice, and Danny had seen and heard enough that the fury was whispering through him.

"'s nothing," he said with a shrug. "Ancient history." The table was blocked by a pillar. Isabel and Tess wouldn't be able to see them, but there was a mirror at the back of the room, and if he looked, Rusty could see their table. Could be sure that Ernesto was nowhere near.

The look on Danny's face was pain and frustration. "_Nothing?" _he demanded. "That didn't look like nothing."

Hadn't felt like nothing. "Not the time or the place," he pointed out softly, glancing towards the mirror and Isabel and Tess were deep in oblivious conversation.

Danny followed his gaze. "Tell me fast," he ordered.

Rusty looked straight at him. "I told you. It's nothing," he insisted stubbornly.

He could see Danny putting it together. "He thought you were dead. He called you..." Danny trailed off, his expression tight. "Ten years ago. Havana."

Fuck. And much as he wanted to deny it, Danny had already read the truth in his face.

"That's the bastard who left you to die," Danny breathed, and the rage and memories lived in his eyes, and he was already standing up, murder written in every sinew.

Rusty reached across the table and grabbed his sleeve. "Sit down," he ordered crisply and at everything in his voice, for the moment, Danny obeyed. "You are not doing anything."

Danny's gaze was level. "I'm going to kill him," he said, and his hand was clenched around the knife on the table.

"No you're not," Rusty said calmly.

"Give me a reason!" Danny demanded wildly.

Rusty took a deep breath and smiled."Well, for one thing, we like this restaurant and murder tends to mean you're not welcomed back places. And for another you're holding a butter knife."

Danny was staring at him.

He persisted, his voice completely serious. "It's just that if you really want to ruin dinner, and get arrested, and force me to break you out, and protect you from the Cubans, and help you explain to Tess that she's going to need a new name and another marriage certificate . . ." He shook his head. "If you really want to go through all that, I just think you're going to need a sharper knife.. Now, are we done?"

Danny closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He dropped the knife to the table. "Let's get Tess and Isabel and get out of here."

Good. Oh, that was good. For a moment he really hadn't been certain that was going to work. "Good idea," he said lightly. "Don't think this is a night for fine dining. Plus you ordered Tess the wrong drink."

"Oh, then it's definitely time to leave," Danny nodded.

Fully conscious of Ernesto, sitting at a table on the other side of the room, they strolled back to their table, smiling at their other other halves like they didn't have a care in the world.

"You know," Danny began. "The service in here – "

" – just awful," Rusty agreed. "And since I want to eat soon – "

" – you always want to eat soon – " Danny interjected.

" – we thought – "

" – maybe – "

"- we should try somewhere else?" he finished, smiling easily.

Huh. Neither Isabel nor Tess looked like they were buying.

"That trick with the mirror works both ways, Robert," Isabel told him softly.

He froze, trying to figure out what she'd seen. Not Ernesto. Surely not Ernesto, because if she thought he'd been being threatened she'd never have sat by.

Tess was looking at Danny, worry in her eyes. "You looked so angry."

_Ah. _Him and Danny talking. Yeah. Somehow he thought that might have looked a little disturbing.

Ernesto was still paying them no attention; seemingly more interested in his beer. Rusty didn't want to rely on that lasting. Very, very briefly he met Danny's eyes and they were agreed.

"Ran into someone at the bar," he explained reluctantly. "He wasn't that pleased to see me."

Isabel's eyes were alight with understanding, and she was already looking round, trying to work out just _who _and he already knew he was going to need to tell her more later.

"So we're leaving?" Tess asked, already reaching for her bag.

He nodded. "You gotta know when to walk away."

"Know when to run," Danny said at the same time.

Despite the tension, Isabel looked amused. "And you never count your money when you're sitting at the table," she murmured.

He grinned. "Good advice," he said, and they were heading for the door, and he was keeping a careful eye on Danny, but Danny was walking in front of him, Tess' hand in his, and Rusty was certain that Danny wasn't going to risk anything.

Later, after another restaurant with more waiters and more colourful cocktails, and Danny was holding the door of the cab open for Tess and Isabel. "I want to kill him," he said very, very softly, for only Rusty to hear.

"I know," Rusty said, and the sympathy was evident. Wasn't like he didn't know how Danny felt.

Inside the cab, Tess was telling Isabel about a fire alarm at the spa, and doing a spirited impression of someone hysterical and mud covered, and Isabel was laughing like she'd never stop.

"Living's better," he told Danny at last.

* * *

**A/N: For anyone who might have missed it, the first section is related to 'Fairytale of New York' and the second section is related to 'Spirit and Dust'**


	46. What goes around

**A/N: InSilva is pleased with unexplained violence.**

* * *

This was an unwelcome surprise.

Danny stared at the empty parking space for a long moment, trying to _will _the car into existence.

Didn't work.

And as he looked up and down the street, the traffic was gridlocked and there was no sign of the car.

Oh, this couldn't be happening. This really, seriously could not be happening. He'd only been in the shop five minutes. Literally five minutes; he'd practically ran through the aisles, grabbing chocolate and bubble bath and fresh bandages and potato chips and painkillers, charming his way to the front of the queue and hastily telling the cashier to keep the change.

It had only been three days since he'd got Rusty out of that hellhole of a basement, and Rusty still wasn't up to getting out of bed, let alone leaving the hotel, and Danny had been desperate to get back to him, sprinting out of the shop, car keys in hand, to find an inescapable absence of car.

He looked round wildly and found a couple of old men leaning against a doorway. "Did you see what happened to the car that was here?" he demanded.

The old men exchanged a long look. "Couple of young kids leapt in and drove off in it. Going at a terrible speed, they were."

"Was it yours?" the other man wondered. "Is it stolen?"

"You should call the cops," the first man declared authoritatively, obviously hoping for something exciting.

Yeah. That wasn't going to happen. Sooner or later, cops would ask awkward questions about insurance and rightful owners and whether or not Rusty had a driver's license. He turned away and stared again at the empty space.

There was a small part of Danny's mind that was busy being impressed at the speed and skill of the thieves.

The rest of him was too caught up in one simple, unavoidable, screaming truth.

He had just lost Rusty's Mustang.

* * *

Rusty was dozing when Danny got back. He managed to open his eyes and smile blurrily and then he was asleep again and Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd taken a cab back to the hotel. Some conversations he wasn't ready to have. Given a choice, some conversations he was _never _going to be ready to have.

Taking the bandages out of the bag, he crossed to the bed and drew the comforter back, carefully redoing the dressings, wincing all over again at the sight of the wounds. Stan had promised there was nothing permanent, nothing life-changing, but as Danny looked at raw, ragged flesh, that didn't feel like the point.

A few moments after he was done, as he was lying down on the bed beside him, Rusty sighed and rolled over, pressing in close to Danny.

Silently, Danny reached out and grabbed the painkillers, offering two of them and a glass of water.

"You get drive-through?" Rusty asked muzzily.

"No..." Danny said slowly. On account of the lack of car. "I forgot."

Rusty responded instinctively to the guilt in his voice. "'s okay," he promised reassuringly, burrowing in a little closer against Danny. "'m not hungry anyway."

Danny leant in gently and kissed his hair and said nothing and a few moments later Rusty was asleep again.

Staring down at him for a long moment, Danny imagined the conversation.

_You remember how last week I let you get caught by Thomas Tuttle and I couldn't get you out for over a day? Well, this week I borrowed your car for half an hour and got it stolen. _

The guilt was burning through him all over again, and he hadn't been able to stop Tuttle and he wasn't able to take the pain away, and he wasn't able to make Rusty heal any faster, but he was damn well going to do something about this.

* * *

He phoned Maurice Carver. Anything that happened in Salt Lake City, Maurice knew about it. And he was still overwhelming grateful for the fact that Thomas Tuttle wasn't an issue anymore.

"Hey, Maurice," he said easily, glancing back carefully to make sure Rusty was still safely asleep. "I need to know about a couple of car thieves. Young. Talented. Operate in south Sugarhouse."

There was a pause. "I think I know who you mean," Maurice admitted after a moment. "They're based out of Farrelly's garage. You looking to recruit them?"

"Mmm," Danny said evasively. "Maybe. What can you tell me about them?"

* * *

"I need to go out for a while," he told Rusty softly, pulling the comforter up and around him, tucking him in.

Rusty blinked up at him and the frown slowly dawned. "We in trouble?"

Not exactly. Not really. "Just something I have to take care of," he smiled reassuringly, and he turned to leave.

Rusty grabbed his sleeve. "Danny. What's wrong?"

_I lost your car. _He wasn't going to say it. Rusty didn't need to know. Not until the Mustang was back safe. Rusty loved that car. No matter how much Danny might tease him about his inappropriate romance with an inanimate object, he was never going to ignore anything that was important to Rusty. Never going to let it go without a fight.

He lifted Rusty's hand to his mouth and planted a kiss on his knuckles and said nothing.

Rusty sighed. "Tuttle wasn't your fault," he said, looking up at Danny seriously. Wasn't the first time he'd said it. Practically the first thing he'd said in fact, even before Danny had carried him up the stairs it had been all about the absolution. "I was the one who didn't tell you."

Yeah. But Danny should have _known. _

"Danny, you're not going to - " The fear in Rusty's eyes was bright.

" - no," Danny said quickly. "No, he's gone, remember?" And part of Danny wished he was here right now. He licked his lips. "I just have a couple of things to take care of. I'll be back in a few hours. I promise."

Rusty looked at him for a long, long moment, lips pursed. Eventually he nodded slowly. "Alright," he agreed finally. "Just...be careful."

"I will," Danny nodded. He would be.

* * *

Farrelly's garage. Danny just walked right in to find two men arguing over a half-dismantled shell of a car. God, he hoped that wasn't the Mustang.

"No, see, you don't know what you're doing. You think you know what you're doing, but you're just like a little kid playing with Mecanno."

"At least I can hold a hammer the right way up."

He cleared his throat and was awarded with the sound of two heads hitting the bonnet in quick succession.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, smiling brightly as they turned around. Oh, he'd _said _they were men. Really, he'd say they were twenty at the very most. Kids. It was still too early for him to be having a midlife crisis, right?

They looked at each other quickly and then the taller one stepped forwards. "Can we help you?"

He kept smiling. "Turk and Virgil Malloy, I presume. Mechanics and car thieves. You were the getaway drivers for Hannity's job at the Second Street bank last month. Am I close?"

They weren't looking happy. Not even a little. "I don't know what you're talking about," Virgil said.

"Who the heck are you?" Turk demanded.

And still the smile stayed on. "My name is Danny Ocean. You stole my partner's car. I need it back."

A pause and there was a quick, whispered conversation. He caught Tuttle's name and Carver's, and then something about the Carradine job six months back. Oh, it was nice to have a reputation.

"Alright..." Virgil said after a moment. "Even if we did steal your car – "

" – his 'partner's' car," Turk corrected, and Virgil elbowed him the moment he made the air quotes.

"Why would we give it back?" Virgil went on. "That'd be like admitting we stole it."

"Which we didn't," Turk clarified.

Danny nodded slowly. "It's a blue 1967 Mustang. I'm willing to pay sixty thousand to get it back. Cash."

They were staring at him. "Oh, come on!" Turk burst out. "It's in great condition, apart from the bullet hole, but that's three times what it's worth!"

Danny smiled again.

Virgil punched Turk in the arm. "You just told him we have it, you dumbass."

"I'm not the dumbass, you're the dumbass," Turk said, punching Virgil right back.

And this was amusing enough, but it was more time spent away from Rusty, and he had to get back. "Sixty five thousand," he offered quietly.

They turned and stared some more. "Dude," Virgil said, shaking his head. "You could buy four new cars for that."

"My partner's car," he reminded them simply.

Turk coughed. "He must be really good in bed," he said, from behind his hand.

Danny pretended he hadn't heard. "Have we got a deal?"

They hesitated, not looking at each other. And apparently they didn't need to. "Screw it," Virgil said after a second. "Here." He threw Danny the keys.

"Your car's out back," Turk told, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "She's a beauty," he added enviously.

Uh huh. There was a temptation to keep these two apart from Rusty. He pocketed the keys and headed out where Turk had gestured.

In the doorway he paused, and turned round. "You hotwired the car and drove off in less than five minutes?"

They laughed. "Five minutes? We were two blocks away in less than _two _minutes," Turk told him scornfully.

He smiled, knowing for the first time it was in his eyes. "Couple of weeks, we might have a job for you. If you're interested." He scribbled his phone number onto a card and laid it down on the shelf next to the door.

He could hear them starting to squabble over it as he left.

* * *

"I brought drive-through," he announced cheerfully, as he strolled back into the room.

Rusty was half-sitting up in bed, and there was a little more colour in his cheeks, and Sylvester and Tweetie Pie were running around on the TV. "That mean you got my car back?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sank down onto the nearest chair. "How did you – "

" – Maurice phoned," Rusty explained. "Wanted to tell you another couple of things about the Malloys." He smiled briefly. "I put two and two together."

Danny groaned. "Fuck."

"You okay?" Rusty asked anxiously, after a second, looking him up and down checking for injury. "Was it a car-jacking? Did they hurt you?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," he assured Rusty. "They're nice guys, actually. They gave your car back when I asked."

"Huh." Rusty was still looking at him. "You honestly think I'd ever put the car before you?"

He shrugged. "You got an unhealthy relationship with that car."

Rusty grinned. "Maybe I got an unhealthy relationship with you. Ever think of that?"

Danny grabbed the fast food bag and flopped down onto the bed, careful not to disturb Rusty too much and a second later Rusty's head was against his shoulder and Danny's arm was slung around Rusty's chest. "I'll take my chances," he said.


	47. Inspiration

**A/N: Set sometime after O12. The history of an idea.**

* * *

It had been four days since Danny had taken Frank, Basher and Saul off to temporarily separate Richard Hughes from his third home.

Probably-not-so-coincidentally it had _also _been four days since Rusty had last been seen to take a break. If it wasn't physically impossible Linus would have sworn blind he hadn't _moved _in that time.

And yes, the question of exactly _how _they were going to get into Hughes' heavily guarded second home/military compound on the exact night Victor Florentine was going to be there, was indeed somewhat pressing and, though Linus wasn't in a hurry to say so, somewhat unsolveable, and if they didn't get an answer in the next three days they were going to have to call the whole thing off, but that didn't alter the basic point.

"It _can't _be healthy, right?" Turk asked, looking round for confirmation. "I mean, guy hasn't seen the sun since – "

Virgil punched him in the arm absently. " – I don't think it's about his tan, doofus."

"Does anyone know if he's eating?" Livingston asked.

Linus tried to imagine Rusty not eating. Tricky...on the other hand, Rusty had all-but-closed the door in his face last night when he'd tried to tempt him with pizza.

"Oh, I'm sure..." Virgil said eventually, sounding remarkably unconvinced.

Yen looked over at them from his perch on the TV stand (and this was Linus' room, for Pete's sake, and if Yen knocked that over he _knew _who was going to have to pay for it) and calmly pointed out another problem.

There was a brief silence. "But Danny won't blame _us_," Linus said uncertainly. "I mean he's had forever to get used to Rusty being Rusty."

A further silence.

"Maybe we should get him to take a break," Linus suggested eventually. "Just a half hour or something. He's bound to be able to think better after, right?"

"Or you could figure out how to get into Hughes' place," Turk suggested.

"Hey, if I could figure out _that _do you think we'd be standing here?" Linus said defensively. It wasn't like he hadn't tried. He'd poured over the same plans and diagrams as Rusty, and he'd come up with a half dozen scenarios that worked right up until the point where they'd get shot. He wasn't kidding around when he said this was unsolveable. There were no gaps in the perimeter and although there were a few tiny gaps in the security sweeps and a few places where it looked possible to get into the house none of it even came _close _to overlapping. Oh, he hadn't given up. But he was taking breaks and leaving the problem and going back to it and eating and sleeping and generally behaving like a normal, well-adjusted _sane _person.

"I know, I know," Turk said sounding _almost _apologetic. "I just think that it might be easier than getting Rusty to take a break."

"Livingston managed it in LA," Virgil pointed out.

"Right," Turk nodded. "Livingston, go make Rusty take a break."

Livingston floundered. "Well, I mean, ah...I can't...I _can't._"

"Just do what you did last time," Linus suggested impatiently. "It worked then, right?"

Livingston blushed beetroot.

Turk and Virgil sniggered and Turk elbowed Linus gleefully. "Uh, dude?"

His eyes widened. "Oh! Well, uh, okay..._don't _do that."

"I suppose we could call Isabel," Virgil mused.

Turk stared at him. "You want to try imagining that conversation?"

Linus already had. They wouldn't be calling Isabel.

"I suppose..." he suggested hesitantly. "I suppose we could just ask him?"

"Heyyy," Virgil said, like this was a revelation. "We could ask him."

* * *

Rusty answered the door and looked at them thoughtfully, phone in hand. He grinned. "What?"

Somehow Turk had found himself shoved to the front of the group and deputised to speak. He wasn't sure he was happy about that. Did he _look _like freaking Bosley? If he was, he wanted hotter angels. "Hey, Rusty, we were heading out to get some lunch and we were wondering if you wanted to come with?"

"It's morning already?" Rusty asked, a slight smile playing about his lips.

"It's lunchtime," Linus spoke up guardedly. Probably he was afraid of being played again. He did keep walking into it. Turk had no idea whether Rusty really knew what day it was or not, but he figured it was best not to get involved.

Still, he had to admit – their consensus might be that Rusty was going slowly out of his head, but you wouldn't know it to look at him. He still looked just as impossibly together as ever. Honestly, it wasn't like Turk made a habit of thinking these sorts of things, but if it turned out that replicants were living among them, he'd have to seriously consider turning Rusty in for the bounty. Danny too, if it came to that. If there was such a thing as inhumanly cool they had it down to a _T. _

"So are you coming for lunch or what?" he asked impatiently.

"Sure," Rusty said with a shrug, grabbing his key and shutting the door behind him, briefly glancing at his phone just before it disappeared into his pocket. "Apparently I should be taking a break anyway."

"How's it going?" Livingston asked anxiously as they strolled towards reception.

Rusty smiled with multi-million dollar confidence. "We'll get there."

Turk didn't think that any of them had doubted _that _for a second. Actually, he didn't think that any of them _ever _doubted that. No matter how dark and impossible things looked, Danny and Rusty somehow always managed to pull them all through it and in the end they made it look effortless. He had no doubt that by the time they were done with Florentine, when looking back this thing with Hughes' place would look like a minor hiccup.

"We'd better," Linus commented gloomily. "Before you get the record for longest time spent without sleep."

Rusty glanced sideways at him, smiling. "So who was that girl you were buying flowers for, Linus?"

Linus spluttered. "Is nothing private round here? How did you find out about that anyway?"

Rusty just smiled some more.

Turk glanced at Virgil and silently offered a quick and wicked truce. "So who is she?" he demanded, falling into step beside Linus.

"Yeah, who is she?" Virgil echoed from Linus' other side.

"Come on, you can tell us," he coaxed.

"You're going to tell us," Virgil said insistently.

"You think we can't keep this up all day?" he asked. They could. They really could. This was how they'd found out what they were getting for Christmas every year when they were kids.

Linus groaned and shot a furious glance over his shoulder at Rusty. "This is all your fault."

Rusty wasn't looking especially bothered.

"Her name's Anne," Linus told them sullenly. "The flowers were for her birthday. We just got back in touch. We dated through high school until Dad caught us making out in the living room. Satisfied?"

"That happened to Virgil," Turk crowed, the truce abandoned in an instant. "And three days later, Mom found a pair of black silk panties stuffed down the back of the sofa."

"At least I could get a girl," Virgil shot back, leaning across Linus and shoving him. "The only date _you _had in high school was with your right hand."

"I'm left-handed, moron," Turk said, which admittedly wasn't the _best _comeback line he'd ever thought of.

They suddenly realised that everyone had stopped walking and was staring at Rusty. Who had apparently stopped walking sometime _before _and was staring at Turk with a distant expression of concentration.

"Um, Rus'? Livingston prompted nervously.

Rusty blinked and his gaze sharpened. "What did you say about the sofa?"

"Uh, our Mom found a pair of black silk panties stuffed down it?" he repeated. "They were Virgil's," he added, because he couldn't resist.

"Right. Right." The smile spread slowly. "_Huh._ Gotta go."

They watched him walk out of the hotel.

"So, do you think he's finally lost it?" Turk asked eventually.

Linus was frowning. "I am _not _going along with any plan that involves me wearing black panties. Just so we're clear."

With a smirk, Yen asked whether Linus would be okay with any other colours.

* * *

The hotel room was suffering from a noticeable absence of Rusty and Danny found that just a little bit surprising. He'd called Rusty about four hours earlier to say they'd be back...well, _now._ And Rusty had sounded frustrated and exhausted on the phone and Danny had told him to take a break and relax.

Huh. Who'd have thought Rusty would actually go through with it without Danny being there to be patient and insistent.

There was a noise from across the hall and Danny wandered over to make enquiries.

Linus, the twins, Yen and Livingston were playing cards and watching TV, apparently at the same time.

"You're back?" Linus asked, sounding surprised.

Danny considered that for a long moment. "No," he decided at last.

Linus glared at him and then glared at the cards in his hand, both seemingly equally vexing.

"Anyone seen Rusty?" Danny asked casually.

"He went off to find some panties," Turk said without looking up.

..._huh. _Danny could honestly say that that was entirely unexpected. "Anyone's in particular?" he asked with interest.

Turk shrugged. "He didn't say."

Livingston looked up anxiously. "We were going to lunch and he just sort of walked off."

Oh. Well, that was familiar. He grinned; sounded like they were somewhere. "See you later," he said, walking off to make the phone call and find exactly _where._

"Yeah?" Rusty said, answering his phone almost immediately.

"So, I hear that you're looking for panties," he said cheerfully.

"You calling to tell me you've got some?" Rusty replied instantly.

Danny grinned. "I think that the others think you've cracked up."

"It's not the panties, it's the silk," Rusty explained in a way that explained absolutely nothing.

"Uh huh." Danny could be patient. At times.

"Look, we can't get through the fence, right?" Rusty went on. "And we can't get under it and we can't go through the gate..."

Danny still wasn't seeing it. "Right?"

"Silk," Rusty explained expectantly.

_Oh. _Oh, light was beginning to dawn. And Danny was almost wishing it hadn't. "You're kidding," he said slowly.

"It's the best plan we have," Rusty said persuasively.

It was the _only _plan they had. But that didn't mean that Danny liked it one little bit. "Have I mentioned lately how I feel about you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

* * *

Rusty leaned back on the hard seat and grinned across at Danny and Linus, neither of whom had elected to sit next to him. In fact, they were glaring at him with almost-identical expressions of blame and misery.

"One minute to the drop zone," Basher yelled back, over the intercom and over the roar of the engines.

He watched Linus shudder visibly and Danny grip the edge of the seat a little harder.

"Is it just me," he shouted conversationally. "Or am I the only one on this plane who's not worried about jumping out of it?"

"It's not just you," Linus yelled back immediately but Rusty was looking across into Danny's eyes and it was all about staying on top of the fear and just a little about the guilt. This had, after all, been his idea.

"This is it, guys!" Basher shouted and the door was open and Linus was staring at it with abject fear.

"I can't," he stuttered. "I really, really can't."

"It's just like we practiced," Rusty told him patiently. "You've done this before."

"Yes, but not at night, and it's not an airfield down there!" Linus pointed out wildly.

They really didn't have time for this. They had an extremely narrow window of opportunity to hit the roof and if Bash had to go round for another run, someone might notice the low flying plane.

He sighed. "Sorry, kid," he said regretfully and pushed Linus out the aeroplane.

Impressively, the scream was cut off almost immediately. No way the guards down below would get a chance to hear.

Danny looked at him. "He's not going to be happy when we reach the ground."

Rusty grinned. "Almost makes it tempting to stay up here."

"Not a chance," Danny said levelly. "Your idea, you're coming too."

"Right." Rusty smiled and held out a hand. "You with me?"

Danny gripped his hand tightly. "Always," he said and they jumped out the plane together.


	48. Proper Training

**A/N: Written for demanding friend. Everyone should have one.**

* * *

"Don't open the door!"

"What?"

"_Danny!"_

"_What_?"

*jingle*

"..."

"..."

"_Fuck..."_

"...what the hell was that?"

"That was a cat."

"The trained cat?"

"_Trained _might be a little bit optimistic. Come _on!"_

"Where?"

"After the cat!"

"I've got my – "

" – leave the coffee."

"This is shaping up to be an interesting sort of day."

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."

"The cat's called Kitty?"

"The cat's called Bartholemew Jones."

"_Bartholemew Jones?" _

"It's mother wanted it to be an accountant."

"Or an archaeologist."

"..."

"..."

"You're thinking about dressing the cat up in a hat and whip, aren't you?"

"Well, it would be more of a distraction, wouldn't it?"

*jingle*

"_Fuck. _The distraction just went into the elevator."

"How _did _it press the buttons?"

"You're not taking this very seriously. The - "

" – stairs. Yeah. You notice you're not doing a very good job of training the cat?"

"If we don't get that cat back we're going to need to explain to Avril."

"..."

"..."

"...you borrowed your girlfriend's cat?"

"She's not my – "

" – right."

" – and it's not her – "

" – of course."

"...you can be very annoying at times. Have I ever told you that?"

"Must have slipped your mind. You don't think that she's going to notice when she gets her cat back and instead of chasing butterflies it starts chasing diamonds?"

"It's not her cat. It's her mother's cat."

"Right. You don't think her _mother _is going to notice when she gets – "

" – you're a very negative person. Have I ever told you _that?_"

"...no?"

"We're cat sitting."

"Cat sitting. Right."

"You said you didn't want to use a cat from the pound."

"Not after what happened last time."

"So Avril asked me if I minded watching Bartholemew – "

" – she really called it – "

" – Jones, and I spotted an opportunity."

"Uh huh. Why isn't she your girlfriend?"

"This a metaphysical question?"

"You've been out with her umpteen times – "

" – umpteen and a half, to be precise – "

" – shush, you know her well enough for her to ask you to cat sit, and you go to bed together on a fairly regular basis. I'm just wondering what part of this doesn't constitute a relationship?"

"The part where she doesn't want to be my girlfriend."

"..."

"Ground floor! 'scuse me, have you seen a cat around here? About this high, sort of greyish blue with a bell round its – "

*jingle*

" – never mind."

"After that cat!"

"Not the – "

" – front door!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

*jingle jingle jingle*

"Well, fuck."

"So how do you get a cat down from a tree anyway?"

"Ladder?"

"Stick a fish on a pole?"

"Cut the tree down?"

"That tree looks like you could climb it."

"Like _I _could climb it? Why don't you climb it?"

"In these shoes?"

"...and people say that I'm the less-than-manly one."

"Get up the tree, Jane."

"I don't even get to be Tarzan?...okay. This shouldn't be too hard."

"..."

"..."

"You're doing well."

"...fuck."

"You might want to try holding on with both hands."

"Thanks."

"While you're up there..."

"Oh, fantastic."

"You really thought I was going to let this go?"

"Why do you think I didn't tell you in the first place?"

"She doesn't want to go out with you?"

"Says I'm not boyfriend material."

"_What?" _

"She says I'm like...triple chocolate ice cream. Good for a treat, but you couldn't live on it. Or with it."

"..."

"See, this is why I didn't tell you. That look on your face right there."

"You can't see my face, you're up a tree."

"Like that matters."

"She actually _said _that to you?"

*jingle*

"Guess I'm climbing a little higher..."

"She actually said that to you?"

"_Yes._ Last week."

"Why the hell are we trying to get her her cat back?"

"It's not her cat."

"Right."

"And we're using him to – "

" – right. She's an idiot."

"Mmm."

"I mean it, she's a complete and total moron. Who the fuck does she think she is?"

"That's a lot of indignation for this time in the morning."

"Rus'..."

" 's okay, Danny. Really. I've known her a month. It's not like I was planning on asking her to marry me or anything."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between – "

" – right."

" - And – "

" – I know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. When I give her the cat back."

"_If _we give her the cat back."

"What are you, Don Corleone? We're giving her the cat back just as soon as – ah!"

*jingle*

"Rus'!"

"Oh, fuuccckkk..."

"Got you!"

"..."

"..."

"Nice catch."

"I told you you were no Tarzan."

"The cat bit me."

*jingle*

"..."

"You couldn't have caught the cat too?"

"I think what we need is a tin of tuna and a really big net."

"..."

"...

"I guess we've learned one thing today."

"Uh huh...?"

"Whatever Nella says, you're really not a pussy magnet."

"..."

"..."

"Next time I won't bother catching you."

"Yes you will."

"Yes I will."

"Let's go get that cat."


	49. Evil Plan no 306

**A/N: InSilva says I can't have a nuclear submarine. *sigh* I feel so deprived...**

**A/N2: Yes, I'm back. More fic to follow in the fullness of time.  
**

* * *

Terry kept smiling as they filed into his office in ones and twos, laughing and chatting amongst themselves and paying no attention to him at all. Well, that would change.

This was going to work.

This was simple and elegant and it didn't even involve anything other than revealing the complete and total truth.

It was a question of respect. Difficult to gain, easy to lose, _impossible_ to win back.

And even more impossible to live without.

Ocean's little gang only held together because they respected their leader. If he changed that the whole thing would just fall apart. And without his _friends _backing him up, Ocean was nothing.

He leaned back in his chair, the picture of magnanimous patience as the idiot twins squabbled incessantly over sofa space and the contortionist started playing with Terry's desk toy.

It didn't matter. He could wait. He was in control here, they just didn't know it yet.

Unfortunately he still felt the smile fracture a little as he noticed the large bag of popcorn Ryan had brought in, and the look of rapt attention he was fixing Terry with.

If you'd asked him five minutes ago he'd have said that was exactly the expression he _wanted _to see on Ryan's face. Now though he had the uneasy, _ridiculous _feeling that Ryan was regarding him as some kind of free show.

And it did not help when Tarr reached over Ryan's shoulder to help himself to a handful of popcorn and managed to spilt it over Terry's carpet.

"You think you put enough butter on this, mate?" Tarr demanded a second later, not even _acknowledging _the mess.

Ryan shrugged. "You don't like it, bring your own next time."

"Perhaps there will not be a next time," Terry said with soft menace and weighty gravitas.

The buzz of conversation continued and no one paid the least bit of attention to him.

Almost no one.

"Did you want to say something, Terry?" Ocean asked with infuriating politeness.

"Yes," Terry said through gritted teeth.

Ocean didn't even say a word. He just turned his head slightly and smiled and suddenly the entire rabble was silent and watching.

Oh, they had to have planned that. There must have been some sort of signal or something. He was being set up here.

He did his best to rise above it.

"No doubt you're wondering why I've brought you here," he said, his smile tight and cold. "I have something I want to show you."

"It's not a timeshare, is it?" Ryan asked lazily and Ocean grinned.

Terry contented himself with remembering that they wouldn't laugh in a minute. Silently he spread the photos out over the desk and sat back and watched as they all gathered round to see.

Photos of Ocean and Ryan together. A half dozen of them. And they might be fully clothed but there was still no doubt as to what kind of relationship they were _really _having. Those looks, those touches...the CCTV stills from last night and this morning revealing that Ryan had spent the night in Ocean's room.

It wasn't that he had a problem with it. But he was more than happy to take advantage of the fact that other people would have a problem with it. Oh, he wasn't expecting anything dramatic. Just a little less respect, just a little bit of distance. Enough to disrupt their harmonious group.

The idiot twins from Utah. He couldn't imagine they'd be comfortable with it. And Saul Bloom was from an older generation. Unlikely that he would receive the news that his leader was fucking another member of the crew with equanimity.

And the others – Catten, Tarr, Tishkoff, Caldwell...all of them in fact, were going to see how unprofessional this little affair was. He smiled to himself.

"Anyone else confused?" Catten asked slowly, after a moment.

The contortionist looked down at the photos for a long moment. Then he looked up at Terry, smirked and said something that had Dell stifling his laughter with the back of his hand.

It was absolutely imperative that Terry took to learning Chinese as soon as possible.

No. Not it _wasn't _because he wasn't going to be spending any more time with these idiots than was absolutely necessary.

He was watching Ocean and Ryan carefully, looking for any sign of discomfort or guilt.

All there was was unsufferable amusement.

"What are you trying to say here, Terry?" Danny asked.

"Use your words," Ryan advised cheerfully, before munching on yet more popcorn.

Terry despised both of them.

"What I am trying to say," he said slowly, enunciating as clearly as he could. "Is that the two of you are _fucking._"

He wasn't a crude man. But sometimes crudity had its place.

There was silence.

Then, then there was laughter.

They were laughing at him, and in amongst it all, he heard Tarr reminiscing to Tishkoff about something to do with someone named Lonny, a fire alarm and a camcorder, and they weren't taking him _seriously._

"So, whether that's true or not," Tishkoff said, shaking his head. "You gonna explain why we should give a – "

" – you work in a macho profession," he pointed out, calm and cold and truthful. "Do you honestly think that if –_ when _– I spread word of your little indiscretion, that you won't find a bunch of people suddenly unwilling to take your call?" So evidently – on the outside at least – the inner circle didn't care. That didn't mean that others wouldn't. These sort of rumours could destroy men's lives. He'd seen it before. He'd spread the rumours before.

"A 'macho profession'?" Tarr echoed, shaking his head and grinning.

"Have you _met_ Linus?" Ocean and Ryan chorused in perfect, agonising unison.

Caldwell glared at them and it was like Terry wasn't even there. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the one being accused of having sex with a guy."

"Oh, and that automatically makes you unmanly?" Dell demanded, twisting round in his seat to glare at Caldwell.

"Woah!" Caldwell held up his hands. "I didn't mean anything."

Catten snorted. "Livingston, in this room, we got you and we got Rusty. You really think you're gonna be able to sell the manly thing?"

"This coming from the guy who falls to pieces if he doesn't get a manicure twice a week?" Idiot Twin One said, shaking his head.

"Hey, in my line of work, hands are important," Catten argued. "You take care of your hands, they'll take care of you."

"That's what she said," Idiot Twin Two said gleefully.

"Hey, weren't we supposed to be talking about something else?" Catten said hastily.

Terry shook his head as if to clear it, feeling like he'd almost been hypnotised by the inanity. "We were talking about the fact that Danny Ocean is fucking his best friend," he said slowly.

"Or the other way around," Ryan suggested cheerfully.

Everyone stared at him and Terry felt his control of the situation slipping away all over again.

"Was that a confession?" he asked hesitantly.

"I just don't like assumptions," Ryan said casually. "I'm flexible."

Terry did his best not to blink. And did his _very _best to erase the automatic mental images.

"That's what she said!" Idiot Twin Two said even _more _gleefully.

Idiot Twin One elbowed his brother. "That's what _he _said," he pointed out.

Miracle of miracles, Ocean was actually frowning. "We already talked about this though," he objected, speaking only to Ryan. "I'm taller."

Ryan sighed. "We have got to get you watching a better class of – "

" – it was _not _porn," Ocean insisted and Terry's brain ground to a complete and total halt. There were some phrases that a man never wanted to hear his arch-nemesis utter.

Bloom had picked up a photo from his desk and was showing it to Tishkoff. "You know, this is a nice photo."

"But you're not taller..." Caldwell said blankly.

Terry cleared his throat frantically, fighting to regain..._something. _"Alright. Even if you don't care what your _peers _think, there are still some people whose opinion you value." Ocean turned slowly and looked at Terry and now, _now, _Terry was smiling. "I rather think Tess would be interested in all this, don't you?"

Ocean's stare was cold and unblinking.

He didn't falter. "I couriered copies to her first thing this morning. She should be getting them..." He checked his watch theatrically. "Any moment now."

"You're a moron, Terry," Ryan commented softly, his eyes hard and Terry was delighted that here, at least, was reaction. "A self-important, deluded moron."

Ocean's phone beeped and he glanced at it and the grin spread slowly across his face. As Terry watched, he nudged Ryan, who took a long look and a longer laugh, and they both stared up at Terry, identical expressions of delight and amusement and malice on their faces.

"_Napoleon?"_ Ocean asked.

No!

No, she _wouldn't. _She was supposed to be angry with Ocean, not with _him. _She wasn't supposed to reveal...it had been one time! He'd had too much to drink and...oh, _God._

"Get out," he said hoarsely. "All of you. Get out now."

They took their time about it. Chatting and laughing amongst themselves like nothing had happened.

Bloom stood over his desk for a moment, looking down at him, shaking his head and Terry could see the disapproval and in spite of himself, he felt himself wither just a little. Conman's trick, he supposed. But all Bloom said was "You mind if I take this picture?"

Like he wanted to keep it. He waved a hand dismissively.

Ocean and Ryan were the last to leave. And they hesitated in the doorway, smiles bright and cold.

"Bye Terry – "

" – we'll be seeing you again – "

" – oh, _real _soon."

And then the door was closed and they were gone.

Terry put his head down on his desk and closed his eyes.

Why did they have to happen to him?


	50. Party Time

**A/N: This story is for InSilva. Happy Birthday, mate! And she actually wrote some of the lines. There's gotta be something wrong with that...The downhill bit, if you're interested.  
**

* * *

In other circumstances Yen figured that he might actually be enjoying this party immensely.

There seemed to be a never-ending supply of champagne that was both expensive, and more importantly, _free, _and it was being carried around the room in cut crystal glasses by snooty waiters, intermingled with silver trays of canapés that looked and smelled delicious.

Of course the problem here was he wasn't able to partake in any of it right now. Not the food, not the champagne, not even the tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. He knew better than to put anything in his stomach before work.

_Others _didn't have the same restrictions, naturally, and he made a point of glaring as Rusty wandered past with a plate piled high with crab puffs, vegetable tempura, delicate little parcels of pastry and cream and other things that he didn't even recognise.

He wanted the opportunity to stay behind once they were all done, just to enjoy everything he was missing out on.

Not that it was only the food and drink. This was an exclusive sort of party. A-list sort of exclusive. Right now he was seeing people that he normally only saw on TV, gracing the red carpet.

Wasn't just because it was convenient for Danny's plan that he'd been gratified to ask to perform here. If he was the type to be honoured, he'd be honoured right now.

As it was, he just wanted to mingle.

Well, why not? As far as the job was concerned he didn't have anything to do.

Linus was in place as a waiter, ready to lift the key from Taylor, while Turk and Virgil were walking around with wires in their ears and suspicious bulges in their jackets, the very picture of almost-discreet security. Just perfect for crowd control. Yen had never tried a performance in which the audience was going to be subtly threatened into paying attention. He was looking forward to it, honestly, he'd always hated people who talked during the show.

The point was, those three were all busy acting out their own particular roles, and Yen wasn't. And that was something he might as well have fun with.

He wandered into the sea of people, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous with glee, joining in a conversation about the problems with the latest mobile phone with the winner of last year's TV Choice award, before offering a casual nod to a member of Hollywood's elite. Huh. He'd always thought he'd be taller in real life. Not that _he _was going to judge.

Someone bumped into him and he turned, ready to make his feelings clear, and he found himself looking at an almost unbelievably beautiful woman.

"Oh, I'm like so sorry," she said apologetically, and Yen waved it away like it was nothing.

"Hey, you're that contortionist guy, aren't you?" she said enthusiastically. "Taylor said you were going to be here. I saw you at the Chinese State Circus. You were totally excellent."

Totally excellent? It was nice to be appreciated. He smiled and agreed.

"I'd best go say hi to Taylor," she said reluctantly. "I'll maybe see you later?"

He hoped so. In the meantime he supposed it was back to mingling.

He made a point of pausing in front of Linus and solemnly inspecting the tray of crab puffs, before making a show of pursing his lips, shaking his head, and walking away, grinning to himself as Linus glared after him.

"Nothing you fancied?" Rusty murmured, as he ended up close to the small, secluded nook that Danny and Rusty were staking out.

He shrugged and sighed and explained the stupidity of mixing a full stomach with an acrobatic performance.

"Huh." Danny frowned. "Thought that was just for swimming?"

"And does one crab puff really constitute a full stomach?" Rusty checked.

Yen glanced pointedly at the plate in Rusty's hands, piled high with everything that the party had to offer and a few things he'd swear it _didn't. _With a smirk, he suggested that Rusty possibly didn't know _anything _about having a full stomach.

"He's got a point," Livingston contributed, talking into their ear pieces. "You never seem satisfied."

Yen smirked slightly to himself and then smirked even more as he noticed the way Danny was gazing abstractedly at the ceiling.

Rusty looked pensively at his plate of food.

"Seriously, what does happen if you don't eat something every half hour?" Linus asked curiously as he walked over and laid his tray down on the table with a sigh.

Rusty shrugged and grinned. "I go down fast."

Linus frowned. "You mean downhill."

"That too," Rusty nodded.

"That's certainly true," Danny agreed, once again, looking anywhere but at Rusty.

Yen just gave up and laughed.

Turk came walking up, a note in his hand and a grin on his face. "Got asked to give you this," he announced loudly, passing the note to Rusty. "Discreetly."

"This is discreet?" Virgil asked, a couple of steps behind his brother.

Turk shrugged. "This is more fun."

Who was the note from anyway? That was the question in Yen's head. What came out his mouth was a whole lot less civil.

In answer Turk simply jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

They all turned to have a look. Discreetly.

"_Really?" _Linus asked eventually.

Danny just looked at Rusty and shook his head. "Of all the parties in all the world..."

"Tom Cruise is passing you notes in class," Virgil confirmed gleefully.

Yen looked back at Rusty and laughed.

Rusty unfolded the note, looked at it for a moment, then – blank-faced – he passed it over to Danny.

Danny read it and his eyebrows shut up. "Huh."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, taking the note back and taking it in his pocket.

"Just how good are you in bed anyway?" Danny wondered with interest, and Linus turned a remarkable shade of pink.

"You want an answer to that question?" Rusty asked. "Because I think you're in enough trouble."

Yen wondered exactly what the note must have said to get this reaction. Then he realised that the speculation was _wasted _on himself, so he wondered out loud instead.

"Like that's physically possible," Turk scoffed.

"Alright," Danny said, and everyone immediately turned to face him, ready to listen to whatever he had to say.

Yen found that exceptionally annoying. Mostly because instinctively he found himself on tenterhooks, listening to Danny just like the rest of them. Every time he swore that _next _time he'd be cool and dismissive. Just for the sake of being cool and dismissive of course, since whatever else, he had to admit that Danny was usually worth listening to.

"So does this – " Danny began, looking at Rusty.

Rusty shook his head quickly. " – No. Can't see that it's a problem. He's not gonna approach me, and he doesn't know my name."

"He doesn't know your _name?" _Virgil sounded remarkably stupefied.

"Not my full name," Rusty said with a shrug.

At the look on Linus' face, Yen explained that for screaming purposes, a first name was really all that was necessary.

"Okay then," Danny nodded. "We go as planned. Turk, Virgil, just add Tom Cruise to the list of people to _really _try and get away from the door."

"Dude, you really think he's going to want to get close?" Virgil asked, shaking his head.

Danny answered, but by that point Yen wasn't really listening. The woman from earlier crossed the floor just behind them and shot him a small smile.

He smiled back.

"What are you looking at?" Linus asked curiously.

Yen just shrugged nonchalantly.

At that they all turned in one movement to look.

Fuckers. They could have at least _tried _to be discreet. He pointed out that subtlety was supposed to be important for them as professionals.

Turk shook his head, interrupting immediately. "Her? Really, Yen? She's like a whole person taller than you."

"And you got that from a recognised short-ass," Virgil told him helpfully.

"Hey, she's a model isn't she?" Linus interrupted, effectively ending the squabble before it began.

"Super model," Livingston announced authoritatively through the ear pieces. "Her name is Jessica Rain. She was at the New York Fashion Week with Vera Wang."

"You just googled her, didn't you?" Rusty asked.

"Yeah," Livingston agreed cheerfully.

A super model? He liked that.

"She's still gonna be too tall for you," Turk persisted.

"Not necessarily," Danny interjected. "Her last boyfriend was a jockey."

Everyone stared.

Danny shrugged. "It was in Cosmo."

"That's not helping your case," Rusty murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Danny looked supremely unbothered.

Right. Enough was enough. Yen asked abruptly if they were done with this little tete a tete, and at Danny's nod, he walked off into the crowd on the trail of a super model.

"Bring her a glass of champagne," Livingston suggested eagerly in his ear, and Yen shot a glare at the nearest security camera. He didn't need any romantic advice, thank you very much. Especially not from Livingston.

"Sorry," Livingston said immediately, abashed.

He nodded. Better be. Nevertheless he snagged a couple of champagne glasses from a passing tray and approached her with a broad smile. "Hello."

"Hi," she said, turning with an answering smile spread across her face. Oh, he still had it. "Are you enjoying the party?"

He shrugged and managed to convey that he was enjoying it far more now he was talking to her.

By the pleased look in her eyes, she'd got the compliment, and a few moments later she was telling him all about herself.

It paid to be a good listener.

He stood, talking to a super model while the great and the good of Hollywood milled around them and the only thing that could have made this better was if he was able to drink the champagne he was holding. And if they were alone. Alone would be even better.

Unfortunately there was a painting that needed stolen and that meant he had a show to perform and he had to make his excuses far too soon.

He walked towards the raised area that had been set aside, smiling at Taylor who was waiting anxiously. He'd been pretty fucking complimentary when he'd booked Yen. If he'd been willing to offer a little more money, and Yen had been willing to overlook everything that Linus had told them, Yen might just have felt bad about robbing him.

As Taylor made his self-important introduction, Yen watched the room.

"Everyone set?" Danny asked softly and there was a soft chorus of confirmation.

Show time. Linus was stood by the side of the stage, ready to greet Taylor with a glass of champagne and lift the keys. Danny, Rusty, Turk and Virgil were occupied slowly steering the guests towards the show.

A captive audience. He really _did _like that. And he made a point of catching Jessica's eyes before he began.

The problem with providing a distraction was he couldn't give his performance _quite _the same one hundred and ten percent attention he usually would. After all, he had to be aware of the moment when Linus handed the key off to Danny and Rusty, and the moment that Danny and Rusty vanished through the far door and Turk and Virgil took up their position just outside it.

That meant he had five minutes.

His less-than-perfect performance was still five times..._fifty _times better than his closest rival, and as he ran through an all-but-impossible series of flips, somersaults and leaps, his face was expressionless, but inside he was smiling at each spontaneous outburst of amazed applause.

He liked the appreciation.

The guys should be taking notes.

After he landed perfectly on his toes after a sideways double anti back flip, he shot a quick wink at Jessica.

She _had _been looking impressed, but the moment she caught him looking, she immediately looked unconcerned.

Huh. Well. He looked away quickly like he didn't care.

Of course, he didn't get to finish his set.

Basher's little surprise went off after five minutes. There was a loud bang and a cloud of smoke through the door that Turk and Virgil were guarding.

Suddenly no one was looking at Yen.

He reached out and grabbed a plate of crab puffs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there's been an incident," Virgil yelled.

"Please, try not to panic," Turk bellowed, which successfully had the opposite effect.

"If you could all leave in an orderly manner," Virgil added.

People started pushing each other towards the door, private security guards were grabbing celebrities and dragging them out of the party.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

He watched with vague delight as the party started to empty.

Out of the crowd of people swarming around the door, he caught sight of Jessica, scowling fiercely as she was jostled forwards and backwards.

He strolled over to the front of the stage and held out a hand.

She looked up at him, smiled and took his hand, and he helped her up onto the stage.

"Thank you," she said, looking at him through her eye lashes.

In answer he held out the plate of crab puffs. "Thank you," she said, taking one.

Tom Cruise ran past the stage. "Hey, has anyone seen – "

"What's _his _problem," Jessica asked, frowning.

Yen explained that he had a thing for a shameless blond thief who could fit an entire hot dog in his mouth at once.

"Really? Cool," Jessica said, and Yen had absolutely _no _idea if she'd understood a word he'd said. "Say, do you want to, like, go somewhere?"

"Danny and Rusty are out with the painting," Livingston announced loudly over the ear piece. "So I say you go for it."

"Go for what?" Danny asked. Apparently this was a conference call.

"Yen has a date," Livingston explained.

"With the super model?" Linus asked. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that made Yen grin.

"Have fun," Rusty said cheerfully.

"We won't wait up," Danny added.

Wouldn't do them a whole lot of good, he hoped. He smiled at her and carefully palmed the ear piece. He wasn't going to be needing _that._

"Let's go."


	51. Irony

**A/N: Short, stupid, and with a somewhat Alanis Morissette definition of the title.**

* * *

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"Yes, but you're wrong."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"I'm _wrong_?_"_

"Oh, yes."

"I've never been wrong before...are you sure you're thinking of me?"

"You're unmistakeable."

"Huh. I've never been wrong before."

"_Really._"

"Really, really."

"I seem to remember you being the one to say – "

" – that wasn't wrong it was just – "

" – the pulley will hold us _and_ – "

" – you know they really were heavier than they looked."

" – the statues."

"Maybe it was you."

"Me?"

"Maybe _you're _heavier than you look."

"I'm not the one who spent the night before consuming his own body weight in ice cream."

"Hey, it was cookie dough flavoured!"

"My apologies."

"Who'd have thought the statues would have made that much of a splash?"

"Well, they hit the river pretty hard."

"Anyway, that just proves my point. I'm not wrong."

"Oh, you're wrong all right. _Very _wrong."

"Wait. What do you _think _I'm thinking?"

"I think you're thinking that there's only a drop of whisky left and you're having that _and _the last rolo."

"Oh. Well. I guess I _was _thinking that. But I don't think that was what I thought you thought I was thinking."

"Gimmee."

"..."

"'s good."

"'s gone."

"Yeah."

"You know, someone should invent chocolate-flavoured whisky."

"Someone probably already has."

"I mean, you get whisky-flavoured chocolate. And chocolates with whisky _in _them. So why not chocolate-flavoured whisky?"

"Because it would taste like – "

" – that was _my _point. Then you could take the chocolate-flavoured whisky and coat it in whisky-flavoured chocolate, and have a chocolate-whisky whisky-chocolate liqueur."

"Oh, I think I'm glad there's no more booze."

"There should be more booze."

"Uh huh."

"'s not right living in a world with no more booze."

"There is more booze. There's just no more booze right now."

"And that's not right."

"What were you thinking?"

"What?"

"What were you thinking?"

"When?"

"When you weren't thinking about drinking the last of the whisky."

"Oh..._oh. _Yeah. I'm old."

"_What?" _

"And irrelevant."

"_What?" _

"And straight."

"_Wha..._wait, _what? _Is this about that time in Virginia with that Reverend? Because that was over twenty years ago, and you know I never meant to – "

" – _straight _not straight."

"Oh. Right. Well, that might just make even less sense."

"What's not to make sense? I'm old, irrelevant and straight-not-straight."

"Uh huh. Anything in particular brought this midlife crisis on?"

"Kid comes into my office last week and tells me he's had reports of paranormal activity in the Standard and he wants to shoot a hidden camera show."

"Wait..."

"Exactly."

"He was trying to run a Freeze Frame on you?"

"Yeah."

"On _you._"

"_Yeah._"

"But...you _invented _that con."

"_We _invented that con. Yes."

"He was trying to run your own play on you?"

"Uh huh."

"..."

"..."

"Was he any good?"

"A thousand hotel owners in LA and he picked on me. What do _you _think?"

"I think he didn't do his homework."

"Yeah. Rushed past the disclosure details too. And his documentation was weak and his exit strategy might as well have been non-existent."

"You tell him?"

"Oh, I told him. He just looked at me like he didn't understand a word I was saying."

"Sometimes you have that effect."

"I used small words."

"Huh. Not much going on upstairs then."

"I had to guess, he's going to go run it on someone else the exact same way."

"Maybe he'll learn when he gets caught."

"He _did _get caught. I caught him."

"You don't count. What were you gonna do. Call the cops?"

"True. 's just...there was no pride there. No ambition. Fuck, he didn't even seem like he was having fun."

"And he was using our play."

"And he was using our play. Made me feel – "

" – old, irrelevant and straight."

"Exactly."

"Would it help if I pointed out you're none of those things?"

"No."

"Huh."

"I'm having a midlife crisis, Danny. 's a delicate state of angst and ennui."

"Right."

"You don't believe me?"

"I can't help but notice that your state of angst and ennui was a lot less delicate when you were helping me lower a crate of statues into the river."

"Technically that wasn't lowering, that was _dropping_."

"Or for that matter, when there was more whisky in the bottle."

"You're saying I need alcohol?"

"I'm saying it's been a long time since _we _ran a Freeze Frame."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"We need a hotel owner."

"..."

"_Oh._"

"Yeah."

"Terry's not gonna be pleased to see us."

"So we make sure he _doesn't _see us."

"You are _full _of good ideas today."

"Come on. Let's go do something stupid."


	52. The Ballad of the End of the Bar

**A/N: Nominally mtc verse. For those who are interested.**

**A/N2: For InSilva. I don't need a reason.**

* * *

The Corinthian was quiet this time of day and honestly Donny didn't appreciate it. Call him crazy, but he liked tending bar when it was busy, when there was some atmosphere, some interesting people to talk to. Right now there was only six people in the place. Three wine-drinkers left over from the lunchtime crowd, two old-timers nursing their solitary pints and talking obliviously about some ball game fifty years ago. And then there was the dark-haired man at the end of the bar, gazing gloomily into an empty whisky glass.

Donny walked over to him, bottle in hand. "Another?"

The man looked up at him, seeming almost surprised to see him, and he smiled suddenly and brilliantly. "Thanks."

"You've been here a while," Donny commented, as he poured the drink.

"And I'm going to be here a while longer," the man said, grinning and draining the glass. "Another, please."

"Might want to pace yourself then," Donny advised carefully.

The man laid down fifty dollars.

He shrugged. "Alright man, but if it's gonna be like that, believe me I'll cut you off if I have to."

"'s cool," the man nodded, and it didn't seem to bother him one bit.

Right. Well, the guy still seemed fairly sober. He could probably go another couple of hours before Donny really had to start think of kicking him out. Still... "You driving?"

"No," the man answered, shaking his head. "Live a couple of blocks away. In an apartment I can't get into."

Well that was different. "How come?"

"Roommate," the man answered succinctly. "Roommate's _boyfriend,_" he added with a scowl.

Oh. He'd seen this situation before. Couple of friends of his had been caught up in it last year. Some guy moved in with some girl 'just as friends' and then the girl got a boyfriend, the guy was heartbroken and the girl was oblivious. Shame. "You don't get on with him," he nodded understandingly.

The man blinked and Donny revised his guess of how drunk he was. "Who?"

"The boyfriend?" he prompted.

"He's just not...he's just _not," _the man said with a sigh.

"He a good guy?" Donny asked.

The man seemed to struggle with this for a long moment. "He's not a bad guy," he said at last. "He'd be a better guy if they left the apartment once in a while."

Donny's eyebrows shot up. Damn. "Like that, is it?" he said sympathetically.

The man looked sharply at him. "No it's not like that," he said. "Not _completely _like that. They just don't go out. They're there now, drinking beer and watching _football._" He drew the word out disgustedly.

Donny wasn't exactly sure what the problem is. "Plenty of people like football," he pointed out.

"And some people don't," the man said with a shrug. "And the ones who don't shouldn't have to watch it just because some over-muscled moron of a cop wants to."

"You never make compromises for a girl?" Donny asked pointedly. "Never go see a movie you don't want to, go visit her parents or some shit like that, just to make her happy?"

"Yes," the man admitted.

"Well then," he said with a shrug. "Same thing."

"Maybe..." the guy said heavily, his brow creased and his eyes distant. "Maybe I'm overreacting."

"Could be," Donny agreed diplomatically. "Maybe you should talk to this boyfriend. Find out what he's like. Who knows? Maybe it'll turn out that he really is a good guy."

The man snorted. "Yeah. I doubt it."

Donny kept his expression carefully neutral. "You ever think maybe you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" The man blinked, repeating the word like he'd never crossed his lips before.

"Don't get me wrong," Donny pressed on. "I mean it's none of my business, but you seem like a guy who's used to being the centre of attention. Maybe some part of you resents your..._friend..._paying attention to another man."

"I guess I am used to him spending all his time with me," the guy said slowly. "Yeah. Maybe you've got a point." He sighed. "I'm going to head home. Try talking. Thanks."

The man left another fifty and walked out the door.

Donny was still blinking.

_Him?_ They'd been talking about another man this whole time? Huh. He would not have called that.

* * *

Two weeks passed and Donny didn't give another thought to the dark-haired whisky-drinker. The way it worked, people came in, talked a while, left, and most times he never heard from them again.

Another day, another quiet shift. Tuesday night and no one was drinking. Or almost no one. Couple of groups in, but they were just taking up tables, they'd hardly ordered a thing all night. If he had his way he'd close the bar on nights like this. Let the gossipers drink somewhere else. And the quiet blond at the end of the bar, glaring at the whisky bottle like it had personally offended him. Huh. Actually, he had hardly noticed the guy all evening. Now he was looking at him, he wondered how he could have ever missed him.

Looked like a guy who could do with a few words anyway. Mostly because Donny preferred to have a handle on everyone in the bar who might kick off.

He walked up to the end of the bar and quietly busied himself cleaning the counter. The guy looked at him but didn't say anything. Apparently he was going to have to start the conversation himself. "Girl trouble?" he asked easily.

The blond bared his teeth in what could, at a push, be called a smile. "Guy trouble, actually," he said, and by the tone he was obviously expecting that to be enough to scare Donny off.

Another day and it might have been, but he didn't like being steered like that. Besides. If the guy was a queer, it seemed much less likely that he was going to start a fight or something, and that was the kind of drinker that Donny preferred. "Sorry to hear that, man," he said calmly, in the exact same tone he would have used for a straight guy. "Boyfriend giving you problems?"

The guy shot him a look that was surprised for about a half second before it dissolved into amusement. "Yeah. Something like that." Suddenly the guy just looked exhausted and all at once Donny felt a stab of sympathy.

"You want to talk about it?" he offered. "Sometimes it helps to get an outside perspective."

"Yeah." The guy pressed his glass against his head for a long moment, like he was trying to will a headache away. "Well. I'm seeing this guy at the moment. For about a month. It's not that serious, but it's not _not _serious, you know? Anyway, he's not out to his friends, so we spend all our time at my place, and he and my roommate don't get on."

Huh. This was sounding a little familiar. He wondered...but he wasn't going to say anything.

"See, I'm his first boyfriend," the guy went on. "Think he feels like he has something to prove. So he keeps being all macho and throwing his weight around and of course...my roommate...isn't gonna stand for that."

"Sounds tense," Donny said, with a sympathetic wince.

"Yeah," the guy agreed. "'s not like I don't understand where he's coming from. But he – my boyfriend – he's completely different when we're alone."

"Maybe you should tell your friend that?" Donny suggested.

"I did," the guy answered. "He says that isn't the point."

"Right." He hesitated. "You think that your friend might be jealous?" he asked delicately.

The blond looked startled. "What? No. No, we're not like that."

Fair enough. Donny certainly wasn't going to push it.

"No, he just wants what's best for me," the guy went on, and a soft smile spread across his face. "Which is irritating, but I can't exactly ask him to stop caring now, can I?" He sighed. "Guess I'm gonna need to put up with it."

He still sounded tired and Donny found himself anxious. "You think it's going to get better if you ignore it?"

"I don't think it's going to get better if I take sides," the blond answered, and he stood up and headed for the door.

Donny sighed.

* * *

Three days later and the dark-haired man was back sitting at the end of the bar. They were busier tonight and it was a while till Donny managed to talk to him. "How's it going with your friend?" he asked, and really, he was interested. "You try talking to the boyfriend?"

The man sighed. "Yeah. Turns out I hate that bastard."

Donny winced. Not a good result. "Really?"

"Guy's not good enough," the man said simply. "Not nearly. But I can't make him see that. He says it's different when I'm not there."

"And you don't believe him?" Donny asked.

"Don't care,"the man said with a shrug. "I've seen how it is when I _am_ there. I don't like wannabe tough guys. And the minute his back's turned, the bastard's trying to intimidate _me. _Trying to order me around. Like that's ever gonna happen." His eyes darkened dangerously and Donny suppressed a shudder. "If I even _thought _the bastard was trying any of that shit on _him..." _He appeared to get lost in his own thoughts for a second as Donny shifted uncomfortably.

"But he isn't," he pointed out hopefully, and again that matched up with what the blond guy had been saying the other week.

"No, I don't think so," the man said heavily. "He just seems to keep that particular party trick for other men."

"Maybe _he's _jealous of _you_," Donny suggested.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You think?" He sighed. "He's been my best friend since we were kids. I loved him long before I knew what that even meant."

"Maybe you should tell him," Donny advised gently, and apparently it didn't matter that it was two guys, unrequited love stories still got to him.

"Oh, he knows," the man said simply. "And I don't love him like that anyway. I prefer women."

Huh. That was unexpected. He'd thought he was getting good at this open minded shit. Now he was thrown for a loop again. "But you love him?" he asked hesitantly.

The man smiled, amusement obvious. "Like a brother," he offered. "If you like." The smile faded in an instant. "And I don't want him dating someone who's _ashamed _to be seen with him." He spat the words, dripping with hate and venom.

"Ashamed?" Donny asked carefully.

"They don't go out because the bastard's afraid of what'll happen if he's seen with another man. He just comes over and drinks vodka and they go to bed." The man shook his head furiously. "That's not dating. Not even dinner or a lousy movie?"

Donny frowned. "Got to agree, that sounds shit."

The man nodded. "I'm not suggesting he takes out an advert in the New York Times. But a little acknowledgement?I think he could manage that."

"Maybe he's married," Donny suggested. Sounded like a cheater to him.

"His file says no," the man said absently. "He's a _cop._"

This was said with great disgust and Donny wasn't exactly sure just what was wrong with New York's finest, but the man seemed quite certain.

"Not a great profession to be a homosexual in," he ventured.

"Like I said. I'm not asking him to tell everyone. Just to act like a human being." He drained his glass again and Donny silently refilled it. "I don't know how much longer I can watch this."

"If you're fighting with your friend all the time, is that really going to help?" Donny asked.

"We don't fight," the man told him.

"I'm just saying, you've made it clear you disapprove, right?" Donny went on. "Maybe you need to back off. Be there for him, but let him make his own mistakes."

"Just watch and do _nothing?" _The man's eyes were filled with horror, like he was seeing something Donny couldn't imagine. "I don't know if I could do that."

"So what are you gonna do?" Donny asked him.

"I don't know." The guy sighed. "I keep coming back to wondering if I am just making it worse. Apparently the bastard's only like that when I'm around. Maybe...maybe I should give them some space. Go away for a bit, let the relationship settle down." He closed his eyes for a second. "Trouble with that is, I really don't want to." He refocussed on Donny. "Guess I'm going to have to make my mind up. Thanks. For listening."

He left some money and walked away.

* * *

The next night the blond guy came in the bar was packed and the guy seemed even less in the mood to talk than he had been before, sitting at the end of the bar and drinking shots of whisky like he'd heard prohibition was making a come back. Donny waited until the guy signalled him over for another drink. "How's things?" he asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Fantastic," the blond declared tightly, tossing the whisky back and setting his glass down hard.

Donny refilled it automatically. "On me," he said, as the guy reached for his wallet.

"Thanks," he said with what seemed like a genuine smile. "I needed that."

"Uh huh. Interesting definition of 'fantastic' you have going there then," Donny said easily.

"Yeah," the guy said, his hand clenched tight around the glass. "Got to the stage where I can't leave the room for five minutes without risking a fistfight breaking out. I should just break up with him, right? I know that."

"You think your friend has a point then?" Donny asked quickly.

"I don't know," the guy sighed. "So what if he's jealous...if he wants to stay in. 's not a big deal. Really. I like him. Isn't that more important? And if I dump him now, what if I wind up resenting..."

He trailed off and Donny had the uncomfortable feeling that the guy was talking to himself. Like none of this was meant for other ears. "Maybe your friend will get tired of being around if he hates your boyfriend that much."

The guy took a sharp breath. "That's...oh, that's not gonna happen." He sounded certain, but there was a look in his eyes that said otherwise. He stood up abruptly. "I should go. You got customers."

When he'd left, Donny found a wad of bills on the bar.

* * *

The next morning, Donny found the dark-haired man sitting at the end of the bar practically as soon as he opened. "Man, I didn't even see you come in," he said, wonderingly.

The man just shrugged and held up a handful of bills. "Line them up."

"Alright," Donny said placatingly, and he did what he was told, stealing anxious glances at the man all the time. He wasn't looking _bad, _not exactly, but he wasn't looking good either. His clothes were rumpled and there were dark shadows around his eyes. Looked like he'd been up all night. Looked like this wasn't his first bar of the day, either. "You...want to talk about it?" he said and his voice was hushed, like someone had died. And then the man looked up at him for the first time, and he wondered if someone had.

"I had a fight with him," he said.

"The boyfriend?" Donny asked, wonderingly.

"No," the man said simply, and his voice was full of despair.

"I thought you said you never fought," Donny said, before he could help himself.

"Apparently I was wrong," the man said, downing another drink. "'s just...the bastard called him stupid. Over a fucking trip to the liquor store. Like if the clerk sees two guys buying booze together he's going to assume they're screwing. He called him stupid and he called him...and I was standing right there. I'm meant to let that go?"

"Never get in the middle of a domestic argument," Donny advised. "No matter what you say, you're always wrong."

"Didn't even get a chance to," the man said gloomily. "He took one look at me and bundled the bastard out the door to buy his own fucking vodka. And that's when the real fun started."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," he said encouragingly. "If you two are such good friends, I'm sure he'll get over it."

"I don't know," the man said. "What I said...I was talking about the bastard. How he always acts so tough. The way he talks to him. How he reminds me of..." He suddenly clamped his mouth shut. "It was something that should never have been said," he offered after a moment.

"But you said it anyway," Donny said sympathetically. He'd been there. Hell, most people had probably been there.

"No," the man said. "But that doesn't matter. I didn't say it. I didn't need to. He knew what I was thinking." His head dropped down onto his hand and Donny wasn't sure if it was despair or exhaustion, or even just cheap whisky.

"So what happened?" he asked quietly.

"We just stared at each other for a minute. He was looking at me like he couldn't believe I'd just said that."

"But you _didn't _say it," Donny pointed out.

The man shrugged. "I told you, that doesn't matter. Anyway, I left. I had to. He called after me...I didn't stop. Almost bumped into the bastard in the hallway. He was heading back to the apartment. Laughed when he saw me."

"Are you going to go back?" Donny asked.

"Guess I have to," he answered. "I just...I've never had to apologise for something like this. We don't...I don't know what to say."

"Maybe you don't need to say anything," Donny said, staring over the man's shoulder.

The blond guy was standing in the doorway, looking straight at the dark-haired man. Didn't look like he'd got any sleep either. But the look on his face...absolute relief.

The man turned round slowly. He didn't say anything, and a second later the blond guy laid his hand on the man's arm gently and the smiles that Donny could see were brilliant and electrifying.

The blond guy glanced at Donny and nodded, and laid some money down on the bar, and the dark-haired man stood up slowly, and they walked off together without another word.

Donny looked down at his five hundred dollar tip.

He did so love a happy ending.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, please review.**


	53. And a Happy New Year

**A/N: Twenty second piece of Advent Fic! For those keeping count! And this is technically New Year fic! Have grown bored of this Christmas thing! **

* * *

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...huh?"

"Didn't say anything."

"Oh. Right."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Still not talking to me, huh."

"Thought you weren't talking to me either."

"I'm not."

"Right. Of course you're not."

"...I'm bored."

"Who'd have thought? Prison is boring. Must be why some of us work so hard to keep us out of it."

"We're not _in _prison. Stop being melodramatic."

"Locks, bars, concrete and it smells like - "

" - I _know _what it smells like. That doesn't make it prison."

"Uh huh."

"We're in a police holding cell. That's all."

"Right. Of course. How stupid of me. Nothing to worry about at all."

"_Hey! Pretty boy! You got a light?" _

"Look. I know it's not - "

" - oh, believe me, I always wanted to spend New Year's Eve in a police holding cell that smells like - "

" - but you can't blame me.

"I can't blame you?"

"No."

"Fifty four parking tickets."

"Ah. Yeah."

"That's more than one a week."

"Only if they were all from this year."

"You think that makes it better?

"Well - "

" - Fifty. Four. Parking tickets."

"Okay. I admit that part might be my fault."

"I don't even get _how. _I mean, you don't even drive!"

"Sometimes I drive."

"You don't - "

" - Sometimes I drive."

"But apparently you don't park."

"I park."

"You _stop. _There's a difference."

"_Come on, fag. Give me a light."_

"..."

"..."

"You think Tess is angry?"

"That we got arrested? Or that we got arrested before we bought the peaches."

"You'd think she'd have stopped sending me out for the shopping by now."

"How did she - "

" - how do you think she sounded?"

"..."

"I told her we were fine."

"..."

"..."

"We are fine."

"..."

"_We're _fine."

"You know, normally we wouldn't have been arrested for a few - "

" - fifty four - "

" - parking tickets."

"Mmm."

"Mmm? You don't think that the fact that we got arrested might be related to the fact that it was Zeke that pulled us over."

"Mmm."

"Face it. We got arrested because two years ago you left _another _relationship via the - "

" - it was the living room window - "

" - you really think that's the point?"

"You really want that for me? I told you at the time, Zeke said he likes to - "

" - he also likes to arrest people for a few - "

" - fifty four - "

" - parking tickets."

"_Go on. Give me a light, you lousy cocksucking bastard." _

"You really blaming me for not - "

" - no! God, no. Just that if you hadn't - "

" - yeah - "

" - or even if you didn't make a habit of - "

" - believe me, I know."

"..."

"..."

"_Fucking faggot. If you're not going to give me a light, how about me and - _"

" - _hi_ there."

"..."

"..."

"Danny."

"Fine. How about you take yourself over to the other side of the cell and sit very, very still and very, very quietly and hope that we forget that you exist?"

"..."

"_That's _right."

"..."

"..."

"He wasn't exactly - "

" - not the point."

"Danny - "

" - Tess is gonna be worried."

"You called her."

"Yeah."

"You told her you were fine."

"_We _were fine. Yeah."

"Still a lousy way to see in the new year. Danny - "

" - wasn't all your fault."

"Wasn't all yours."

"..."

"..."

"He can't just arrest us for no reason."

"Technically, he had fifty four reasons."

"I'm serious. This is police harassment."

"..."

"What?"

"'s nothing."

"_What?_"

"When Zeke was checking for weapons he, uh, got a little _inquisitive._"

"..."

"Danny, the door is locked."

"He - "

" - it's - "

" - it is _not _fine. It is very fucking far from being fine."

"_Ooh, scary._"

"And you can sit down and shut the fuck up...Rus' - "

" - I said it's fine."

"And I said it's not. _Fuck._"

"Danny..."

"..."

"_Danny._"

"Rus', I - "

" - it's fine. C'mon. Sit down."

"..."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"We are not declaring war on the NYPD. Again."

"..."

"Bobby still has paperwork outstanding from the last time."

"..."

"And don't say if you explained he wouldn't mind, because we both know you'd never explain."

"Yeah. Rus', 'm - "

" - I know. And I'm - "

" - she'll forgive me. And in a few hours she'll come down here and post my bail."

"Our bail?"

"..."

"Danny."

"Our bail. Think I'd leave you in here by yourself?"

"Can't say I care for the experience."

"Yeah. There's a New Year's resolution. I swear, I'm going to do my best not to get arrested."

"I swear I'm going to stop running away from relationships. Literally, anyway."

"Is that - "

" - bells. 's midnight."

"Happy New Year, Rus'."

"Happy New Year, Danny. Here's to 1997."


	54. A certain style

**A/N: Set shortly after Ocean's 13**

* * *

Danny was beginning to give serious consideration to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Rusty had died and neither of them had noticed. By his watch it had been about two hours since Rusty had moved a muscle, and that had only been to stretch his foot slightly. Since then, nothing. Nada. Danny didn't think he'd seen Rusty stay this still since...well, _ever._

In a surprising turn of events, Tess and Isabel were both away on business – Tess in Rome and Isabel in Washington - so Danny had figured it was a perfect time for him to visit Rusty. Of course, he'd reckoned without Rusty having finished up a heist at the Deutsch Bank which had apparently involved not sleeping for three days. He glanced over at Rusty critically. Four days. So while Rusty had been pleased to see him, he'd suggested they just stay around the house today. Which had meant Rusty curling up naked on a recliner by the pool, like an evenly-tanned cat.

Not that Danny would ever mind. But he was thinking of poking Rusty with a stick when lunchtime came around. In the meantime, he was amusing himself by responding to all the competitions and quizzes in Cosmo with Linus' details. He'd send them in the next chance he got.

Rusty's phone rang suddenly and Danny watched amused as Rusty grabbed it from the table and answered it without raising his head or even opening his eyes. "Yeah...Dominic? Is Reuben okay?" Danny's amusement faded in an instant and he leaned closer. He'd talked to Reuben just last week and Reuben had promised he was doing fine and doing everything the doctors told him to...but things could change quickly. "Really? Okay we'll be there in...right. We'll meet you there." He hung up the phone and sat up slowly. "Reuben's fine," he said before Danny had even managed to formulate the look that asked the question. "Dominic's in trouble."

Danny blinked. "Dominic doesn't _get _in trouble," he pointed out.

Rusty shrugged. "Apparently he's found some and he needs our help." He looked around vaguely. "I should probably find some clothes before we head to the airport, right?"

"Right," Danny agreed fervently.

* * *

Apparently Dominic hadn't wanted to meet them anywhere near Reuben's place. Instead he was waiting for them in an upmarket coffee shop on the way from the airport. Wearing a trenchcoat, a fedora and a false beard and moustache.

Danny stopped dead, trying not to stare.

"Don't get any ideas," Rusty said in a low voice.

Ideas? He shot Rusty a look of hurt. Whenever _he _tried to sneak a false moustache past Rusty's watchful gaze, it at least matched his hair colour.

Dominic caught sight of them and beamed with relief. "Mr Danny. Mr Rusty. Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Danny said, sitting down. "So what's the problem?"

The problem, surprisingly, was a girl. "Susan," Dominic lamented. "She's beautiful and twenty years younger than me. I should have known better. I'm an old fool."

They listened sympathetically as the tale unfolded. A couple of dates, a lot of ego boosting, and Susan had taken Dominic to this fantastic new club she'd discovered called Sensations.

"It was not a place that I liked the look of," Dominic said delicately. "But I did not want Sue to think I was an old stick in the mud, so I didn't say anything. And inside..." He visibly shuddered and was obviously unwilling to continue.

That bad, huh?" Rusty asked.

That bad. Bad enough, in fact, that Susan had introduced Dominic to the owner, Martin Rice, and Dominic discovered that while they'd been walking around the club, Martin had taken a number of pictures on his camera phone. Pictures that Dominic desperately wanted to make sure no one ever saw.

"I am not doing anything in the pictures," he assured them for the fifth time, despite the fact that they had expressed absolutely no doubt on the matter. "But the other people in the pictures are..."

" - not so innocent," Danny suggested.

Dominic nodded fractionally and Danny seriously doubted he was going to say any more. "I don't want anyone to see them," he said quietly. "I would be disgraced. And I really don't want Mr Reuben to know."

Danny opened his mouth to point out that Reuben would never doubt Dominic's innocence when Dominic finished. "He has been through enough this year."

That was difficult to argue with. Reuben might not be shocked or judgemental, but the fact that Dominic was being hurt would hurt him.

"Reuben never has to know," Rusty nodded. "So. What are they after? Money?"

Dominic looked even more distressed. "They want information on Mr Reuben's business dealings. If it was just money I would try and pay them, but this? I would - "

" - you would never," Rusty cut in reassuringly.

"We know that," Danny agreed with a flash of a smile. "Alright. We'll take care of this, Dominic. Don't worry."

Immediately Dominic looked relieved.

"We'll let you know what's happened tonight," Rusty added. "We'll stop by Reuben's."

"You will see Mr Reuben?" Dominic said apprehensively. "I don't want - "

" if he finds out we've been in town and haven't stopped by..." Danny pointed out with a shrug. Reuben would be hurt. They all knew that.

Dominic nodded. "As long as he doesn't suspect you're up to anything," he said firmly.

Rusty grinned. "You don't think he'd be more suspicious if we _weren't _up to something?"

Dominic slipped away, wanting to get back before Reuben noticed anything and Danny drank an espresso, sat back and watched Rusty play with his phone.

"Can you get the Starship Enterprise on that thing?" he asked with interest.

"You want Kirk or Picard?" Rusty answered without looking up.

He smiled. "All I'm saying is that mine just calls people."

Rusty glanced at him briefly. "Yours does a lot more than call people. You just don't know how to use it properly."

"I'd be doing better if Livingston hadn't stolen the manual," he said sulkily. Apparently the manual had been wrong. Which he might not have minded if he'd understood a word of the lesson Livingston had offered in return.

"There," Rusty said triumphantly. "I've got the Sensations club website private gallery." He looked closer at the screen and pursed his lips. "_Huh._"

Danny had a look. Huh indeed. He didn't think he'd seen that much leather and latex in one place in his life.

* * *

"Thing is," Danny commented, as they leaned against the wall and ate their burgers, watching the world go by. "If someone's trying to sell Reuben's business dealings, then someone has a buyer."

"Someone who doesn't like Reuben very much," Rusty agreed, licking ketchup enthusiastically off the back of his hand.

"Bank?" Danny suggested. Hadn't been that long since opening night, and maybe his little chat with Bank hadn't been enough.

Rusty screwed his face up. "Bank wanted to be this sort of stupid, he'd probably have put Dominic in hospital."

Danny nodded. Yeah. That was his take. They were looking for someone -

" - small," Rusty nodded. "And petty."

They looked at each other. "Terry Benedict," they said in unison.

And that meant that people would be looking for them. They'd have to move fast before Terry even knew they were in town. Above all they'd have to be certain they couldn't be recognised.

Danny looked at Rusty. Rusty looked at Danny. "Guess - "

" - we're going leather shopping."

* * *

"Is it too late to tell you I have an allergy to latex?" Danny asked in an unhappy voice, surrounded by shelves and hangers of...stuff.

"Feeling a little happily married?" Rusty murmured, looking over from his perusal of a costume Danny didn't even understand.

"Are those arm holes or leg holes," he asked curiously.

Rusty put the costume down with a grimace. "Neither."

"Huh," Danny said. "But there's two of...oh! Got it."

"Enough to want to wear it?" Rusty asked with a grin. "Should disguise...most of you."

"Uh huh," Danny scowled. "Are you telling me that Isabel would be happy to know you were in a place like this? Because unless your sex life - "

" - okay, okay," Rusty said hastily. "Fine. No discussing - "

" - not here, if you don't mind," Danny nodded. He sighed and moved onto the next shelf. "You know, I can think of a few occasions I would have been happy to have you on a leash."

"This should hide your face," Rusty retorted, throwing something over to him.

He caught it automatically, looked down and grimaced. "Let's try and stay away from anything Pulp Fiction related, huh? We want to fit in the Goldilocks way."

"Nothing too hard, nothing too soft," Rusty nodded. "Gotcha."

Sometimes Danny had to wonder about him.

* * *

In the end, Danny went for a mask that was slightly more Zorro than gimp, only with rather more studs than Don Diego de la Vega had probably seen in his life. Added to that he had a black PVC shirt with too many buckles, and a pair of leather pants that had him worried about chafing. And a shiny bald wig. On the whole, he was confident he looked nothing like himself. He'd say his best friend wouldn't recognise him, but that was just never gonna happen. Not least because his best friend was standing next to him, dressed in something black and shimmery, wearing too much eyeliner, a long platinum blond wig, and enough body glitter that he sparkled even in low light.

Danny glanced sideways at him. "You look like one of the vampires from Twilight."

Rusty grinned. "You watch Twilight?"

"Shut up," Danny suggested mildly.

"What's that?" Rusty asked sharply as Danny absently shoved the red handkerchief deeper into his back pocket.

"Huh?" He shrugged. "Noticed that a lot of the guys in the photographs had these. Thought it was some sort of style statement. Figure it would help us fit in."

"Uh huh." Rusty shook his head and pulled the handkerchief out of Danny's pocket, balling it up and throwing it into the garbage. "You just hit the wrong end of the Goldilocks spectrum."

Danny blinked. "What?"

"'s not so much a style _statement _as a style _request," _Rusty told him, shaking his head again. "Honestly, you say _I _don't notice the signals."

Huh. Danny considered asking, but then decided that he probably didn't want to know.

They walked into the club and the guy on the door didn't give them a second glance, just took their money and waved them through. Once inside it took all the self control Danny had built up over a lifetime to keep from reacting. The club was heaving, occasionally literally, split off into little groups and tableaus of depravity. Far as Danny could see no one was actually having sex, but there was a feeling of anticipation, a smell in the air that suggested it was only a matter of time.

He looked at Rusty quickly, ready to warn or beg him to stick close, and he laughed to see the exact same thought on Rusty's lips. Yeah. Protectiveness was out in full force. From both directions.

"This place - " he commented.

" - exactly," Rusty agreed. "Can't help thinking - "

" - Dominic," he nodded. "He must have - "

" - oh, he must have," Rusty finished with a grimace. There was no wonder that Dominic wouldn't want any evidence he'd even set foot in this place.

They walked further into the club, trying not to stand in anything that...just trying not to stand in anything. Automatically they headed to the bar and ordered some drinks. Danny tried not to stare at the clean cut young man on his hands and knees beside them, drinking happily out of a dog bowl while a spiky woman held his leash.

"You know - " Rusty said slowly.

" - yeah," Danny agreed. Their plan had been to create enough of a fuss that the manager would be called. But somehow he didn't think that complaining about the cover charge was gonna cut it here. "We need something - "

" - bigger," Rusty agreed, already scanning the room. "Alright. I got it covered. Manager's office - "

" - up those stairs," Danny nodded. "I saw."

"Don't get in any trouble," Rusty instructed.

"Likewise," he said dryly, draining his glass quickly. Ugh. If it was anymore watered down it might have been healthy.

He set off towards the office, carefully sidestepping the wild-eyed man brandishing a truncheon, the tattooed guy lying back in the sling, and the large woman who was pissing on...okay, _ew._ The stairs were at the back, next to a small alcove where a man was tied to a wall while another man whipped him frantically. By the looks of things, they were both enjoying it immensely.

Danny had always considered himself a fairly open minded guy, but he had to admit, he couldn't understand how anyone could find pain sexy. He'd been on the receiving end too often, and getting off had been the last thing on his mind.

He walked up the stairs a little and looked over the club as if he was just enjoying the view. Really, he was listening to the office behind him. The door was ajar and he could hear someone moving around in there. Had to be Martin Rice. He hoped.

He looked down and caught Rusty's eye and nodded fractionally, and even at this distance he could picture the blinding smile that Rusty shot him in return. Fascinated, he watched as Rusty weaved his way through the crowd, stopping to whisper to a couple of people here, smile at someone _there, _spill a drink, trip someone, and in his wake fights broke out, spilling into each other until the whole club was involved. Bottles were thrown. Chairs and...assorted accessories...were swung. And Rusty was calmly strolling through it all unscathed, ducking the occasional punch.

Danny smiled to watch it. Magic in action.

Just as he'd expect, the door behind him burst open at the sound of the fight, and Martin Rice burst out, looking wildly around at the scene of anarchy where he was expecting a scene of debauchery. Danny took advantage of the moment of shock and confusion to slip past behind him, easily lifting the phone out of his pocket.

Mission accomplished. Now to get out of here before anyone realised that Rusty was about as innocent as snow that had been driving for a bank job. And before these pants rode up any higher.

* * *

One quick change of clothing and a slightly longer trip to the nearest Genuis Bar later, and they were standing on Reuben's doorstep.

Danny had felt slightly left out as Rusty had connected Rice's phone to an unattended computer and emailed Roman to have him send some sort of virus that not only ripped all the pictures out the phone, but also followed them anywhere they'd been uploaded to and destroyed that too. At least that was Danny's understanding. He also got the impression that they wanted to be elsewhere when the Apple Geniuses figured out exactly what had been downloaded onto their computer.

Dominic opened the door and looked over his shoulder quickly. Evidently Reuben was nowhere in earshot. "Did you - "

" - it's done, Dominic," Danny assured him. "No more photos."

"Good," Dominic said with a sigh.

"What's good?" Reuben asked curiously, coming down the stairs. His face lit up when he saw them. "Guys!" Danny eyed him quickly and certainly Reuben looked better than he had been even two months ago. And that was good because really, Danny wasn't anywhere near ready to accept the idea that Reuben might be mortal yet.

"Hi Reuben," he smiled.

"Hey, Reuben," Rusty said at the same moment.

"Come in, have a drink," Reuben invited. "Tell me what you're doing here."

"Just passing through town," Danny said easily as they followed Reuben inside, and he'd swear he actually held Dominic give a sigh of relief. He prepared for a night of little white lies.

"Thought you wouldn't mind us dropping in," Rusty contributed.

Reuben snorted. "Like I ever mind - " he stopped short, staring hard at Rusty's face. "Is that glitter on your cheek?"

Alright. Maybe a night of _inexplicable _little white lies.

"Danny wanted me to dress up as Edward Cullen," Rusty explained calmly, futilely trying to rub the glitter away.

….that might be a lie too far. On the other hand..."Ha!" he said triumphantly. "You've seen it too."

Reuben and Dominic exchanged knowing glances and sat back, ready to be entertained.


	55. Of Cats and Men

**A/N: 55th piece of short nonsense! And it's not going to make complete sense unless you've read Proper Villains Kick Dogs.  
**

* * *

Thing was, there were rules, if rules was the right word. Conventions, maybe. Things that were clearly understood, even if they were left unsaid. Firstly, they'd do anything for each other. No act of self sacrifice too great, no moment of nobility too ridiculous and most of all, no regrets. Not ever. Secondly, it was their job to look after the others. Their friends were _their _responsibility, and that meant that if the worst happened, they could never put each other first. And last - and in another way, first - Tess and Isabel were to be protected. That was it. Good rules. Simple. Comprehensive.

Sadly, Danny found, this particular situation just wasn't covered.

He was around half a block from Rusty's place, pressed against a wall in a parking lot, and unfortunately the men with the guns weren't far behind.

Even more unfortunately...

There was the sound of a gun cocking and he risked a quick glance around the corner. The chief heavy was standing in the middle of the parking lot, holding Zombie No. 5 at arms length, his gun pressed squarely against the cat's body.

It looked ridiculous but Danny wasn't laughing.

"You'd better come out with your hands up unless you want kitty guts splattered all over the ground," the man yelled.

Danny closed his eyes. He almost didn't believe he was really thinking about this. Yes, Rusty loved that cat, but Rusty loved him a whole lot more, and if he got executed in the middle of a parking lot because he'd been trying to save the cat...well, seemed likely that Rusty was going to find some way to raise him from the dead just so he'd be able to yell at him.

But Rusty really loved that cat.

Things had been going so well, too. Yes, there were men trying to kill him, but he'd been the only one at the house when they'd arrived – the only one except Zombie, anyway – and he'd managed to get out by the pool doors and keep running at least this far.

Of course, his phone was sitting charging by the TV.

There hadn't been any bullets coming after him so far. Seemed most probable that these guys worked for Neil Daly, and Daly wasn't known for killing people...maybe this was more of a kidnap than a hit.

He sighed. Truth was, he couldn't stand and let them kill Rusty's cat. Everything else was just justification.

"This is your last chance," the heavy bellowed, and Danny carefully stepped out into the parking lot with his hands above his head. "Hi," he said agreeably.

The heavy stared at him in disbelief, apparently astounded to see him. Oh, that was just great. Even the bad guys didn't expect him to fall for this.

"Into the van," the heavy ordered, gesturing with his gun, and Danny glanced at the beat up transit and breathed an inward sigh of relief. He wasn't dying immediately then.

Zombie was thrust into his arms as he clambered inside, and he glanced down into those placid eyes unhappily. "You couldn't have at least scratched him? What's Rusty teaching you?"

Purring happily, Zombie snuggled deeper against his chest.

* * *

He was far from surprised to be shoved into a little room at the back of Daly's villa, a little way outside the city. And, unfortunately, he wasn't at all surprised to see Linus, Frank and Virgil already there waiting for him. In fact, the only surprise was that Turk wasn't there as well, and that Daly himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Gentlemen," he nodded. "I would say it's nice to see you again so soon, but in the circumstances..."

"Yeah," Frank snorted. "Got picked up at the manicurist again. I swear, it's getting to be a habit. Though you don't even want to _know _how they got Linus."

"Maybe you need to start getting pedicures instead," Danny suggested. "Or that thing with the fish."

Frank looked thoughtful.

Danny grinned, stepping further into the room. "So how - "

" - hang on," Linus said, staring at him incredulously. "You have a cat?"

He looked down at Zombie. "Thank you," he said gravely. "I hadn't noticed."

"That's Rusty's cat, isn't it?" Virgil asked, walking over and looking at Zombie curiously. "The one he stole during the Florentine job."

"Yep," he agreed, deciding that keeping it short and unhelpful was probably the way to go.

Linus stared. "Why did you bring the cat?"

Virgil sniggered. "Were you taking it for a walk?" he suggested. "I know what you California types are like."

"I'm from New York," Danny pointed out mildly. "Rusty's the one who lives here."

"Same difference," Virgil said with a shrug.

Uh huh. He didn't think California was contagious that way. "Alright," he said, dropping Zombie neatly into Virgil's arms as he walked past. "So what do we have?"

"Nothing," Frank said gloomily. "The windows are barred, I looked at the door and it's reinforced, and someone's gone and welded over the lock."

"Well, that's just inconsiderate," he said lightly. Also they had no tools to remove the hinges, they were on the ground floor so that was out, and the amount of noise it would take to bring the walls down would make that a wash out even if it was possible. No, the only way they were getting out of here was if someone opened the door. "Anyone seen Daly?" he asked.

They all shook their heads. "Guess he's waiting for Turk and Rusty," Linus suggested.

Probably. And Rusty would be back by now and would have discovered Danny was missing, and as long as Rusty could avoid Daly's men he'd find them eventually. Danny had complete confidence in him.

Conscious that someone might be listening in, he looked enquiringly at Virgil who shrugged unhappily. Right. So they _might _be expecting Turk to turn up sometime soon.

Zombie chose that moment to wriggle away from Virgil, cross the floor and look up at Danny with an expression of abject adoration, mewing expectantly.

He sighed and picked him up. "Whatever happened to cats being independent?" he asked as he fished a twinkie out of his pocket and fed a piece to the cat.

"Oh, that's Rusty's cat alright," Frank snorted.

"Why did you bring the cat?" Linus persisted.

Danny smiled enigmatically. "How _did _you get picked up?" he asked with interest.

"Someone knocked on the door saying they were delivering flowers and he opened the door like a shot!" Virgil crowed happily. "You often get flowers delivered, Linus?"

Linus went pink and muttered something that might have been "I like flowers."

Grinning, Danny shook his head. "Suppose we can give these guys points for imagination if nothing else," he said. A manicurist, flowers and a cat. Made him wonder just what sort of reputation they _had._

"What's going to happen?" Linus asked nervously, and now all of them were looking at Danny expectantly.

He sat down on one of the chairs and smiled at them, Zombie settled easily in his lap. "We're going to escape before he lays a finger on us," he said simply.

"How?" Virgil demanded eagerly, and right about then they heard the sound of something hitting the outside wall hard. Then it came again and again and again...They stood back and there was a second of silence before the wall was torn away, leaving them staring at open space, and Turk and Rusty sitting in a bulldozer.

"Like that," Danny explained, like it was what he'd been expecting all along.

Zombie yawned.

* * *

"Do I want to know where you got the bulldozer from?" Danny asked as they ran out into the grounds, and Turk and Rusty leapt down from the bulldozer.

Rusty shrugged. "Probably not." His eyes fell on Zombie and he frowned. "Do I want to know why you have my cat?"

"Definitely not," Danny said firmly.

"Car's this way!" Turk yelled, taking off running, and there was unsurprisingly a great deal of commotion coming from the house behind them.

Rusty stared at him while they ran.

He tried to will Rusty not to ask.

"I think I want to know why you have my cat," Rusty said at last.

He sighed. "I _said_ don't ask," he pointed out gloomily.

"And I didn't listen," Rusty retorted. "There's no way you would have picked up Zombie while you were running, so..." He froze and stared at Danny some more.

"Running," Danny reminded him urgently.

"Right." Their flight resumed. "Right. So. Tell me I'm wrong, but did they say to you 'It's you or the cat...and you chose _you?_'"

That had everyone staring. Right about now, Danny would give a lot for some kind of divine intervention. Failing that, the ability to actually lie to Rusty would be nice.

"Something like that," he admitted.

"Something like that," Rusty repeated. He shook his head as they reached the car, and Turk immediately leapt into the drivers seat, leaving the rest of them to pile in as best they could. "You..."

He trailed off, but Danny could read the rest in his eyes. Anger, exasperation and all Rusty's thoughts on exactly where Danny ranked in relation to cats.

But it wasn't just any cat. Zombie was _Rusty's _cat. And he couldn't let that go.

Rusty's eyes softened slightly. Ever so slightly. "Get in the car," he said to Danny, and he could hear the hint of threat and the '_we'll be discussing this later' _wrapped up in his voice.

He climbed in the car, squashed beside Frank, and he looked back to the house almost longingly. Being captured was looking pretty attractive round about now.

Linus was staring at him. "You got abducted for the sake of a cat?"

Daintily, Zombie jumped out of his arms, sauntered into the front street and nuzzled up to Rusty.

Danny sighed. Everyone was against him.


	56. Tetchy

**A/N: Just a short piece of nonsense. For InSilva because...well, if I need a reason I guess because she likes short pieces of nonsense.**

* * *

"..."

"..."

"Danny."

"Hey. You're back."

"Uh huh."

"How did the thing go with the guy?"

"Fine."

"..."

"..."

"Okay. What's wrong?"

"Trying to decide if you've been replaced with a robot."

"_What_?"

"Or a clone. I suppose we could be looking at a cloning situation here."

"Right...so have I done anything in particular to get you questioning my humanity?"

"Huh."

"What?"

"You think clones aren't human?"

"Now you're just dodging the question."

"I'm just saying, seems kinda narrow minded of you."

"And I suppose that adds weight to the 'robot' theory, right?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"Oh, for...look, this isn't Blade Runner or The Island. I'm just as human as when you left, now would you just _shut up?_"

"..."

"Sor-"

" - Danny."

"Seriously, I don't know what came over me."

"Seriously, it's okay. And to answer your question, when I got back I was met with a...delegation."

"A delegation of people who think I've been replaced by a robot?"

"No, the robot was my contribution. This was a delegation of people who think you've been...irritable."

"Irritable?"

"That was Livingston's word. Linus went for tetchy. Bash said you're a moody bastard...you really don't want to know what Yen said you were."

"No. No, I probably don't."

"You know my vocabulary has expanded a lot since we met him."

"No doubt."

"Terry's learning Chinese at the moment. I keep thinking we could - "

" - oh, you just want him to get his face slapped again."

"It _was _very satisfying. And we _could _-"

" - oh, we _could. _So. I'm irritable."

"Tetchy. Yes."

"..."

"Apparently you told Livingston that three days wasn't good enough for the tracker."

"It isn't."

"And you switched off Basher's music in the car."

"Have you _heard_ it?"

"And you raised your voice when you were telling the twins to be quiet."

"I lost my temper."

"Plus you made Linus cry."

"..."

"..."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"I made him _cry?_"

"So they tell me."

"And so they asked you to come find out if I was a replicant?"

"They asked me to find out what was wrong with you. They're worried."

"..."

"You don't lose your temper, Danny. Not unless the situation is a lot worse than the twins. And I think I would have noticed."

"You _hope _you would have noticed."

"You're saying I'm oblivious to danger?"

"Just good at ignoring it."

"Huh. Point is, you're not acting like yourself. Linus thinks you're sick."

"He thinks I made him cry because I'm sick?"

"He suggested a brain tumour."

"Huh."

"Or dementia."

"_What?_"

"He did specify early onset. If that helps at all."

"Not so as you'd notice. He really thinks I'm...oh, that's not _right_."

"He was quite upset...he'd been online."

"Huh. Do you get hypochondria by proxy?"

"Linus can probably check online."

"Yeah. Think we should remove his internet privileges."

"You'll make him cry again."

"I really made him cry?"

"He's fine."

"..."

"..."

"I'm not sick."

"I know. You think I'd come in here talking about robots if I thought you were sick?"

"Yep."

"Huh."

"I'm not a robot either."

"Uh huh. How long has your tooth been hurting?"

"..."

"Really, Danny?"

"Few days. A week, I guess. I was going to do something about it."

"Of course you were."

"It'll go away on its own."

"Mmm. How's that plan working out for you?"

"It went away on its own last time."

"Last time, huh?"

"...fuck."

"Here. Take these. Drink this."

"..."

"Guess you haven't been sleeping."

"Hurts too much."

"Danny..."

"I'm not scared of the dentist. I just don't want to go."

Do I look like I'm giving you a choice?"

"You look like you're bullying me."

"...I wouldn't call it bullying."

"I doubt any bully would."

"What, are you planning on telling me for dragging you to the dentist?"

"If I thought I could get away with it...it really did go away on its own before, Rus'."

"And then came back."

"Yeah."

"I'm amazed Tess let you get away without going to the dentist the last time."

"It was while she was away for a few days."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really."

"What?"

"Just wondering if your toothache is psychosomatic."

"Did Isabel get you a word-a-day calendar or something?"

"Maybe you just don't like sleeping alone."

"If I say that's it, I don't have to go to the dentist, right?"

"Oh, you're going to the dentist. Soon as those painkillers start working, I'll make some phone calls. Find someone who can see you this afternoon."

"If the pills make the pain go away then why would I need to see the dentist?"

"You know, the last time _I _tried that argument - "

" - I remember."

"I think Linus has a point. You're tetchy."

"Irritable. My tooth hurts."

"C'mere. Lie down."

"..."

"..."

"I made Linus cry."

"He'll forgive you. Close your eyes."

"I should apologise."

"That'll _really _worry him."

"..."

"Are the painkillers starting to kick in?"

"No. But somehow I'm feeling better."

"..."

"..."

"You drool on my pants - "

" - it'll help hide the pattern."

"Tetchy bastard."

"Bully. Don't move."

"Sleep well."

"..."


	57. Coulrophobia

**A/N: Rather longer than average, but owing to lack of background, certainly still fits into the Snippets category. So there. :) Also, set after Ocean's 13 for those who like to keep track.**

* * *

Linus stared at himself in the mirror gravely. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. The guys had expected him to do some weird things in the past but this? This might just be the worst. Straight away it was obvious - the first casualty of this job was going to be his dignity.

Okay. Rather than leave the bathroom and face the music – and the laughter – he should check if he absolutely definitely had everything.

White pancake make-up? Check.

Floppy green and purple polka-dotted bow tie? Check.

Lime green curly wig? Check.

Large pink flower that squirts water? Check.

And a bright shiny red plastic nose to top it all off. Terrific.

God, he looked ridiculous. Of course he understood why it had to be him who did this. Everyone else had their own parts to play. Rusty was already in place as Randall's PI and Danny had to be on stage as the patron

.. in order to pass Randall the secret message.

Trouble was, he had a feeling that even if that wasn't the case, it would still have been good ol' Linus donning the clown shoes.

He sighed morosely. Who was he kidding? If it had been Danny or Rusty in this get-up, somehow they would have found a way to make even this look cool. Can't spell con without confidence, as Danny had told him, much to his puzzlement.

Trepidation well and truly settled in his stomach, he finally pushed the door open and stepped out of the bathroom, only to be greeted by catcalls and camera flashes. As he'd more than half-expected, there was a group gathered and waiting for him. Rusty, Basher, Livingston, Turk, Virgil, Reuben and Yen.

He glared. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he demanded half-heartedly.

"Nope," Basher declared cheerfully. "This is better than the X-Factor."

Reuben snorted. "What isn't?"

Yen was staring fixedly at the clown shoes and said something too fast for Linus to catch.

"Oh, that's just creepy," Livingston told him, shaking his head.

"It's not even true," Rusty agreed.

He didn't want to know, he didn't want to know, he didn't want to know...maybe if he just ignored them hard enough they'd disappear.

Instead the door opened and Frank walked in, which was kind of the opposite of what he'd been hoping for. "Rusty, you got to try these," he said, holding out a cardboard box. "My Mom just sent me these frosted banana chocolate chip cookies and they're amazing."

Linus sighed. "It's like you're some monster who can only be appeased with baked goods," he commented sarcastically.

Frank turned and caught sight of him. "Gah!" he yelled, jumping about a foot in the air, scattering cookies through the air.

Rather faster than could easily be believed, Rusty leapt to his feet and rescued one single, solitary cookie before settling back down onto the sofa and dropping it onto a paper napkin in one easy movement.

Yen gave him a round of applause.

Basher looked at the broken cookies scattered around the floor. "Someone's going to have to clean that up."

"What's with you?" Reuben asked Frank curiously.

Frank was still staring fixedly at Linus. "I don't like clowns," he said with difficulty. "No one else think they're creepy as fuck? Even when they're Linus."

He was pretty sure he'd been insulted. He just wasn't quite sure how.

"Coulrophobia," Turk declared confidently.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He shrugged. "Fear of clowns," he explained laconically.

"How the hell did you know that?" Virgil demanded.

"The real question," Turk said with a great deal of pleasure. "Is how _don't _you know that. Dumbass."

"You're the dumbass," Virgil snapped. "Bet you made it up."

"Did not," Turk frowned, actually looking hurt.

"You know," Livingston commented. "I used to date a clown in college."

"Did he taste funny?" Rusty asked with idle curiosity.

Livingston glared at him and blushed red.

Linus decided that he hated all of his friends with a deep burning hate.

"Did I miss it?" Danny asked brightly, walking in, and Linus decided to hate him twice as hard, just for good measure. "Huh." He stopped, lips pursed, looking Linus up and down and frowned. "Not bad, but shouldn't you look a bit jollier?"

"You're thinking of Santa," Rusty told him, looking round.

"Oh." Danny thought for a second. "How do clowns look then?"

"Homicidal?" Frank suggested with a shudder.

"Then Linus has it down just fine," Danny decided cheerfully, sitting down beside Rusty, grabbing the cookie from the paper napkin, and eating it in two bites. "What?"

The look Rusty shot him probably counted as homicidal in its own right.

* * *

The lobby of the Bellagio was filled with chaos and clowns and Linus felt just a little intimidated.

The sign over the front desk which read "Welcome to the Fifth Annual Clown School Conference and Awards' was already streaked with paint, confetti and custard, there were several spontaneous juggling routines breaking out, a couple of clowns on unicycles and two surprisingly serious looking clowns doing something with two planks of wood and a gallon of whitewash that looked positively dangerous. Terry's staff were looking decidedly on edge. Probably they were wondering just why their boss had agreed to this madness. If Linus didn't already know the answer, he'd be wondering the same thing. This surely couldn't be covered by normal damage insurance.

Eventually, he managed to push his way to the front of the crowd at the front desk and grin with hopefully-clown-like-cheer at the girl taking names and handing out welcome packs.

"Hi! I'm Dappo!" he announced gleefully, trying to ignore the way his stomach was turning back flips, and every fibre of his being was screaming that this, _this _was worse anything he'd ever imagined and he should really run, hide and most of all get out of this outfit.

She looked at him doubtfully and then looked down at the sheet in front of her. "The Original Dappo, the Wonderful Dappo, the Legendary Dappo, or the Inflatable Dappo."

Inflatable...He blinked. "Uh, the Wonderful Dappo. Thanks."

She nodded, crossed off the name neatly, and then handed him a badge on a lanyard and a small plastic folder. "Here you go, sir. Please enjoy the conference."

"It'll be a great laugh," he declared, honking the horn in his pocket and trying out a loud guffaw. She stared at him stone-faced before letting out a polite giggle, which he took as his cue to move along.

He turned away from the desk and another clown in a stringy-orange wig with bracers to match bounded up to him. "You look hungry!" he said happily, and without warning he produced a a custard cream pie from absolutely nowhere, and smashed it into Linus' face before skipping away merrily.

Oh, God. He was supposed to be getting close enough to Randall to plant the camera without being noticed. Being covered in custard was _bound _to be the opposite of unobtrusive, even here. Wiping his face off as best he could, he hurried away from the lobby, ducking into a storage closet just off the main corridor. With a grimace, he tried to scrub his buttons clean. There was a pointed cough behind him.

"Jesus!" He span round to be confronted with Terry Benedict, looking decidedly unimpressed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Terry's lip curled seemingly automatically. "I see you've finally found a role that suits you, Mr Caldwell," he said, as Linus frantically tried to scrub the custard off his bowtie.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Somehow, Terry managed to look even more smugly dismissive. "Only that it's a shame for you that the position of Ocean's dumb blond sidekick is already filled. You've never really quite fit in, have you?"

"Oooh." He pretended to be spooked. "Is that supposed to get to me? What, do you just hang around storage closets in case someone comes by you can play mind games with now?" He frowned. Actually... "What _are _you doing in here?"

Terry ignored him. "I'm sure it's very sweet, the way you hang on Ocean's every word," he said slowly. "I bet you never dare go against him."

"Of course I do," Linus protested with a bewildered laugh.

"Really," Terry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Tell me. When was the last time you went against what Ocean told you to do?"

He paused, thinking. And then thinking some more. And some more. Oh, this was ridiculous. "I do it all the time," he argued.

"Name one time," Terry instructed him.

This was _seriously _ridiculous. Well, there had been the time with the pinch...but that was ten years ago now and it hadn't ended well for him _anyway. _

"Alright," Terry went on mercilessly. "When was the last time you questioned Ocean? Or made fun of him? All those little jokes and japes you all indulge in. I bet you don't make fun of Ocean now, do you? You wouldn't dare."

Linus laughed. Okay. Now Terry was way off base. "Of course I do," he said easily.

"Really," Terry said disbelievingly. "Somehow, I don't think Ocean's ego could stand it."

"He's not you," Linus pointed out and winced slightly at the look Terry turned on him.

"I bet you can't do it," Terry said tersely.

"I bet I can," he declared.

"Alright then," Terry smiled coldly. "I bet that tonight, when you're both on stage, you won't squirt Ocean full in the face with that flower in front of everyone."

"What?" Linus stared.

"I'll be watching," Terry told him. "If you don't do it, I'll know you're secretly afraid of him." Triumphant, he opened the door and swept out into the hallway, leaving Linus blinking after him.

What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Camera planted, he retreated upstairs, con forgotten, only thinking about the bet. He couldn't really do that, could he? Not that it would really make a difference to anything. He'd be swapping the order of awards to put Randall ahead of him, so when he got on stage in front of Danny nothing he did would actually affect the job...but that wasn't the point, right? He _couldn't. _

Terry Benedict had said he couldn't.

Alright then, he _wouldn't. _

He remembered the sparkle in Danny's eye when they'd been discussing Randall's unexpected little hobby, and suggesting just how Linus could get close to him. He gritted his teeth.

Okay. Maybe.

When he got upstairs Rusty was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, surrounded by packs of store-bought cookies and bundles of files marked 'Private and Confidential'. He had a pad of foolscap paper open on his lap and was meticulously writing on it, and he didn't even look up when Linus entered the room.

Linus coughed politely, and when that didn't get a reaction, he said "Uh, I think I might have done something stupid."

"Uh huh." Rusty didn't look up. Linus would be feeling a lot happier right now if he at least _pretended _to be surprised. "What's happening?"

How to explain this... "Well, nothing's actually _happened _yet," he struggled. "Just that there was..." He bit his lip. "I mean, I..." He sighed. "You know, I don't even get why Benedict was in the closet in the first place," he said plaintively.

Rusty looked up slowly. "You trying to tell me you just outed Terry Benedict?"

"An actual closet," Linus explained politely. "With shelves and stuff."

"Huh." Rusty continued to look at him. "So what were you doing in an actual closet with Terry?" he asked.

Linus glared at him. "This whole clown conference thing is awful," he complained. "They were everywhere. Hundreds of them. One of them threw a pie at me and I went into the closet to try and get the custard off. Benedict was already in there."

"Huh," Rusty said again thoughtfully, and at least he was indisputably listening now, and Linus took the opportunity to tell him all about the bet.

When he was finished, Rusty just watched him steadily for a moment. Just long enough for Linus to get uncomfortable.

"You know," Rusty said at last. "Between this and you running naked through Salt Lake City, I'm beginning to think you have a gambling problem."

"Obviously I'm not going to do it," Linus said, rolling his eyes. "But I told Benedict I would, and I'm sort of worried that he'll do something when I don't."

Rusty pursed his lips and stared up at the ceiling pensively for a moment. "I think you should do it," he said surprisingly.

"What?" Linus spluttered. "Are you serious?"

"Definitely," Rusty said, glancing quickly at the nearest pack of cookies. "We were wanting to create a disturbance so Randall can get off stage. This is better than the sprinklers. Don't worry," he added, catching Linus' look. "I'll talk to Danny about it."

Right. That was a conversation _he _wouldn't want to have.

* * *

There was something surreal about seeing black-jacket clad waiters with trays of champagne flutes and canopes gliding peacefully through a sea of clowns.

Once again it was absolute chaos. Bright colours, lots of shouting, lots of laughing, horns, bells, whistles...seemed like everyone was competing to be the centre of attention. And that was awkward because it meant that drawing attention to himself became the only way of not drawing attention to himself.

He couldn't juggle. He couldn't dance. He couldn't whistle, mime or even fall over in an interesting and amusing manner. But he _could _do sleight of hand, and he planted a few ridiculous objects on nearby clowns – oversized handkerchiefs, a rubber chicken, a banana – and then drew them out moments later with a gleeful whoop which drew cursory admiration before everyone went back to trying to get their _own _share of the spotlight.

Here was a room desperately in need of an audience. Carefully, he walked his way around the edge of the room, briefly getting caught up in – and losing – a prat fall contest, nearly tripping over those stupid shoes a time or two, before making his way to the seating area at the end of the row. Looking round to make sure no one was watching, he quickly swapped around the name cards on the seats, putting himself and Randall at the end of the second row. "Danny, he's going to be nineteenth up," he said surreptitiously into his mic.

"Got it," Danny said, presumably from the sanity of the VIP area backstage. Of course, sanity was a relative term. Danny himself was still there, after all.

Now there was nothing to do but try and mingle unobtrusively until the awards began.

He turned round and narrowly avoided getting another hilarious pie in the face.

Oh, he couldn't _wait _for tonight to be over.

* * *

It took an excruciating three hours before the assembled mass of clowns were sitting in their seats, waiting for the awards. Linus had briefly kicked up a fuss that Randall was supposedly sitting in his seat, but he'd settled down when the Bellagio security moseyed over. Would be enough that later, after Danny had passed him the secret message, he'd remember and wonder.

A multi millionaire spy movie aficionado who took a correspondence course in clowning. Let it never be said that they didn't tailor cons precisely.

Surprisingly, the actual awards were pretty tame. The president of the school made a dull speech, Danny, as supposed patron, made a rather less dull speech that had the clowns rolling in the aisles. Then, row by row, the clowns filed onto stage to be handed a cheap paper scroll by the president and have their hand shook by Danny.

As he waited for Randall to go up the stairs, he glanced nervously across the room. Terry Benedict was standing off to one side, arms folded, exuding smug anticipation. Linus bit his tongue. He didn't _like _giving Benedict room to feel superior, let alone seeing Danny publically humiliated, even in a way that shouldn't matter so much. It just didn't sit well with him.

Finally, he watched as Randall crossed the stage and saw the flicker of uncertainty and bewilderment cross his face as Danny handed him the USB mid handshake. There was intrigue and excitement there too though...they had him.

He started to walk across the stage himself, feeling ridiculously self conscious – yes, everyone was looking at him, but he was surrounded by clowns, so there was no reason to feel like he was about to spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment.

His hands were sweating as he took the scroll. Then, his other hand on the little button in his pocket, he turned to face Danny..

Calmly, he shook Danny by the hand, barely hearing the expected pleasantries. Then he squeezed the button and a powerful jet of water shot out, hitting Danny full in the face.

For a second there was stunned silence. Then the laughter started building through the hall, while the VIPs on the stage tried desperately to get everything calmed down and express their outrage.

Linus didn't hear a word of it. He was frozen, standing in front of Danny, because Danny was staring at him, water dripping off his face, absolute and perfect shock in his eyes.

Apparently Rusty had chosen _not _to have a little talk with Danny.

Oh, God.

He might just have stood there transfixed for the rest of time, but there was suddenly a high pitched scream from the side of the hall and when he span round, Terry Benedict was being carried towards the stage at shoulder height by six burly clowns.

"Let me go this instant!" he demanded, struggling wildly, but no one was listening, and oddly his staff didn't seem to be doing anything.

What in the world was going on here?

"Ladies and gentlemen," the lead clown shouted cheerfully as they deposited Benedict on stage. "This is Mr Terry Benedict who owns the Bellagio and has been so hospitable to us today."

There was a loud cheer. Benedict smiled thinly and took a couple of steps towards the stairs before finding his way blocked by even more clowns. His eyes were rolling wildly.

"Now just to show he's a good sport," the clown went on. "Mr Benedict has agreed to be the centre attraction in our main tradition, with all the proceeds going to Camp to Belong – a worthy charity very close to Mr Benedict's heart."

With another tight smile, Benedict cleared his throat, apparently attempting to point out that he'd never agreed to anything.

"So, without any more fuss," the clown bellowed. "Bring in the custard pies!"

The doors opened and trolley after trolley of custard pies were wheeled in with several clowns producing water pistols, buckets of paint and God knows what.

Oh, it was time to get out of here. Fast.

* * *

He found Rusty leaning on the railing on the mezzanine level, staring serenely down at the chaos below. Benedict might have started out as the target – and certainly he'd got a lot of custard on his dignity – but it seemed as though there were a lot of old grudges in the room, and it had devolved into a good old fashioned food fight.

He joined Rusty at the edge and stood in impatient silence for at least two seconds. "Alright, why?" he burst out finally.

Rusty didn't look round. "Why what?" he asked vacantly.

"Just..._why?_" he demanded.

All he got in response was what he personally categorised as Rusty's third most annoying grin, the one that was amused and enigmatic in equal measure.

He sighed. "Benedict doesn't look very happy," he commented, looking down at the stage. Seemed as though Benedict had taken shelter behind a row of chairs and was considering making a break for it.

"Coulrophobia," Rusty said cheerfully.

"Huh?" He turned and stared. "How do you know?"

"Why else would he be hiding in the closet?" Rusty pointed out with a shrug.

"Oh." Linus blinked. "_Oh. _And then you set up this..." He shook his head. "You're a cruel, cruel man."

Rusty nodded cheerfully. "But I can be appeased with baked goods."

"That's good to know," Danny said brightly, and when they turned round, Danny lightly smashed a custard pie straight into Rusty's face.

Oh, he was glad Danny wasn't blaming _him _for this whole thing.

"Pineapple?" Rusty complained, wiping the custard off his mouth and licking his fingers pensively. "You couldn't have found a banana one?"

"You couldn't have had Linus shoot someone else with his flower gun thing?" Danny answered sharply.

Rusty pursed his lips. "You couldn't have _not _eaten my cookie?"

"You couldn't have given my jacket back?"

"You couldn't have - "

"Guys!" Linus interrupted quickly, slightly afraid that this was just going to go on until the beginning of time.

They stopped, and grinned at each other, and then Danny joined them, leaning against the railing and admiring the chaos below.

Linus stole a glance sideways. Danny was still soaking wet, Rusty was covered in custard and Linus...Linus was still dressed as a clown.

He sighed. "How about we all agree to never talk about this again?" he suggested hopefully.

He was met with two identical, annoying grins. "Where's the fun in that?"


	58. Strange Gifts

**A/N: Short, pointless and conversationy, and I was gonna say that's because it's been a while since we had anything short pointless and conversationy. But actually, was the chapter before last. *shrug* Hope you don't mind.**

* * *

"Mmm."

"Yeah."

"It's an espresso machine."

"I _know _it's an espresso machine, Rus'. I was looking for a little more help than that."

"It's red."

"..."

"..."

"You see what I mean, right?"

"Uh huh. Really, it's the perfect present for you...from someone who hates you."

"_Hates _me?"

"Sure. It targets your irrational fear of technology and you self-destructive caffeine habit all in one."

"...I'm not _afraid _of technology, I just don't know what it's going to do."

"In this case? Make coffee...unless that's just what it _wants _us to think."

"I do not think technology plots against me."

"Your smartphone..."

"Oh, I _know _that plots against me. You have any idea how long it took me to explain the photos to Tess' cousin? Don't try and tell me that anything that malicious wasn't planned."

"Never put down to malevolence what can be easily explained by incompetence."

"Oh, you're just a ray of sunshine today."

"I was quoting Napoleon."

"Then Napoleon is a ray of sunshine."

"Well, he is dead. And short. And poisoned by wallpaper."

"Poisoned by..."

"I - "

" - read it in Reader's Digest. I have _got _to stop you reading that."

"Feel free. I'll just move on to wikipedia."

"Don't think I don't know what that is."

"I _don't _think you don't know what that is."

"Well, good."

"Good. "

"And just for the record, as far as self-destructive habits goes, I think your thing with junk food is more of a problem than my thing with caffeine."

"Uh huh. You know you could drink decaff."

"_You _could eat granola bars."

"Yeah..."

"..."

"..."

"Think they were invented by the same person."

"Probably the same person who sent you the espresso machine."

"Really, who _was_ it?"

"I told you. Someone who hates you."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Oh, come on."

"It's not impossible."

"..."

"It's not. I get a package, I take it inside, it intrigues me enough to keep around."

"Alright, let's check the espresso machine for explosives."

"...I was thinking hidden cameras."

"That's because you're the optimist. Okay. Let's see now. This should just slide right off..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Congratulations. You own a perfectly ordinary espresso machine that's not gonna spy on you _or _blow you up."

"Too bad I still don't know where it came from. Want an espresso?"

"You're trying to prove you're not afraid of technology, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Sure."

"..."

"..."

"Aren't you gonna read the manual?"

"How hard can it be?"

"Isn't that what you said when - "

" - hush."

"You remember trying to explain to Mrs Lewis what happened to her plastic ducks?"

"It was a victory for good taste. Anyway, point is I'm not afraid - "

" - _don't push that button!" _

"Huh?! What? Why?"

"..."

"Oh, you are _not _funny."

"..."

"Someone who hates me, huh? I'm beginning to think maybe you got me it."

"Did I?"

"..."

"..."

"No."

"Right. So that's one person down, seven billion to go."

"I think we can narrow it down to people I've met."

"Right. So down to twenty thousand then."

"..."

"Studies have shown that the average American meets ten thousand people in their lifetime. I doubled it, cos you're not average."

"Seriously. No more Reader's Digest. And I'm gonna call Livingston and get you blocked from Wikipedia."

"This is good coffee."

"See? Not someone who hates me."

"Would be an unusual way of getting revenge anyway."

"I don't know...Terry's tried everything else."

"You think maybe he's decided to try being nice to you?"

"Stranger things happen."

"Huh. Would that mean we'd have to be nice back?"

"We got him a slot on Oprah. How much nicer can you get?"

"True. Should have known it was meant to be nice anyway. 's shiny."

"And all shiny things are nice?"

"Why else become a thief?"

"..."

"Yen says you're attracted to shiny things."

"Think he meant you."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"_Huh._"

"Yeah."

"Shiny?"

"Have you seen what you're wearing?"

"Huh."

"You practically match the espresso machine, that's all I'm saying."

"It's good to blend in to your surroundings."

"Did Napoleon say that too?"

"Guess he blended into his wallpaper."

"Seriously, what, did he _lick _it?"

"There's not much to do on Elba. Other than make up palindromes."

"Go deliver a dare, vile dog!"

"You sound like Zorro."

"Zorro's almost a palindrome."

"You know, there's..._huh._"

"What?"

"So, this espresso machine. Have you seen one like it recently? Online, perhaps?"

"In an advert. Wasn't red though. I was buying some flowers for Tess, and then a whole bunch of adverts opened up and..._I _bought it?"

"Uh huh. This receipt has your credit card number on it."

"But I was trying to buy flowers."

"Red, by any chance?"

"Oh, for - "

" - this is why you're scared of technology."

"I'm not scared of it. It's just out to get me, that's all."

"You know, I actually find it hard to disagree."

"...Want another cup?"


	59. Ripped from the headlines

**A/N: Just a few very short snippets based on things I've seen on the news over the last few years. So they are all, to a definite lesser extent, based on real crimes.**

* * *

_$20 million dollar maple syrup caper!_

* * *

Linus stared at them, jaw dangling. "You're not serious," he said, once he'd recovered the power of speech.

Danny's expression was entirely serious. "It's worth more per barrel than crude oil," he said.

"And tastes a whole lot better on pancakes," Rusty added, grinning.

Reuben snorted. "Which implies you've tried pancakes with crude oil."

Rusty shrugged. "I'll try anything twice," he said.

"But it's maple syrup," Linus wailed. "We can't steal maple syrup."

That got him a few interested looks. "Why not?" Danny asked.

"It tastes great on waffles," Rusty chimed in.

"It's...it's..." He floundered, trying to think of a reason they'd accept. "Undignified," he tried at last. "I mean, it's not exactly - "

" - we're talking about a warehouse with thirty million dollars worth of goods, Linus," Danny told him. "Does it really matter what the goods are?"

_Yes. _He could just imagine the look on Dad's face when he heard.

"Plus it goes well with ice cream," Rusty added.

"But it's _maple syrup,_" he said again hopelessly. "You're talking about stealing maple syrup. It comes out of _trees._"

"And tastes great with sausages," Rusty nodded.

"Linus, it's - " Danny began, then stopped suddenly, tilting his head towards Rusty. "Sausages?"

"Yep," Rusty said firmly, with a sparkle in his eyes that was just daring Danny to disagree.

Danny sighed and turned back to Linus. "It's a commission. We got a buyer."

Oh. That made a difference. A bit, anyway. "Fine," he said sullenly. "S'ppose we're stealing the syrup." This was _so _not going on his resume.

Reuben looked closely at Rusty. "And I suppose we're stealing one barrel extra."

Rusty grinned. "You think? Just one?"

* * *

_Inflatable Ronald McDonald missing!_

* * *

Terry woke up feeling good. The sun was peeking through the drapes, he was rich and powerful, and last night he'd managed to make a dozen or so snide disparaging remarks against Tishkoff's new place. With any luck he'd would manage to ensure it had a less-than-stellar reputation before it even opened. The one about the garish inflatable sign currently floating above the entranceway had gone down particularly well. "More like something you'd see above a burger bar than a luxury hotel." He smiled to himself just at the thought of it.

The phone was ringing in the other room. With a sigh, he rose briskly and opened the door, promptly coming face to face with the giant floating head of a monstrous clown.

He screamed and startled backwards, landing on the floor in an undignified heap, and even then he had to scramble back quickly, until his back hit against the bed.

The clown leered down at him.

It was an inflatable, he realised dully, when his heart had stopped pounding. One of those tacky ones you might see floating over a burger bar. He gritted his teeth. Of course. Why would he ever expect anything else?

The phone had stopped ringing by now, but with difficulty, shuddering fastidiously every step of the way, he crawled beneath the clown and made his way over to the phone.

He called security, ready to report an intrusion, still trying to find the words to say "There is a giant inflatable clown in my room." In the end he didn't have to.

"Oh, Mr Benedict," Simon began nervously. "There's, uh, been an incident. You'd better get down here as fast as possible."

He did. And he found there was a further four inflatable clowns floating around the lobby and the main casino floor. Plus one plastic king that stare at him with soulless eyes. It was early, but there were still guests milling around, looking confused and taking pictures of the unexpected decorations. He had no doubt it had already been uploaded to Youtube.

"There's nothing on the surveillance footage," Simon said miserably. "One minute everything's normal the next – boom. We're knee deep in clowns. If they can do that, they could have done anything. Taken anything."

He clearly didn't understand the point.

Terry did. He stuck his hands deep in his pockets and gazed round at the warning.

Perhaps it might be time to take a vacation.

* * *

_Thieves steal bridge under town's noses!_

* * *

Rusty watched with amusement as Danny accepted the steaming mug of coffee from the old lady. "You're not even doing any work," he pointed out, once he was sure she was out of earshot.

Danny took an appreciative sip and looked at him unrepentantly. "I'm - "

" - _sure _you are," Rusty agreed, rolling his eyes. "How come the rest of us don't get coffee?"

"Because you're supposed to be working," Danny answered, lips not even twitching.

"Uh huh." Rusty pursed his lips. "I saw the way she was looking at you. Think she was probably measuring you up as a potential grandson-in-law. I see shotguns in your future."

Danny ignored him. "She was at pains to tell me how stupid she thought the government was to have us out here working on this old bridge," he said. "She said no-one's used it since they built the new road."

"You could have told her it was going to a better place," he said lightly. One where rather than looking at it and seeing a badly-in-need-of-repair copper bridge, they'd see an excellent example of late nineteenth century design.

Danny shook his head slowly. "Who collects bridges?" he demanded, not for the first time.

"Someone with a lot of floor space," Rusty told him seriously, and Danny laughed.

"Okay, we got fourteen hours. Let's get moving."

Tomorrow the town would wake up and look to the river and find their bridge wasn't there.

* * *

_One of our dinosaurs is missing!_

* * *

"Sorry it's not wrapped," Danny said lightly.

Virgil was still staring as the two metre tall dinosaur roared and waved its arms, and little Michael and Sonny laughed and clapped their hands gleefully.

"You said you wanted them to have more stuff they had to share," Danny added.

Virgil found his voice. "So you thought giant robot dinosaur?"

He exchanged a glance with Rusty and shrugged. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed.

"Who _doesn't _want a giant robot dinosaur?" Turk exclaimed. "Come on, look at the twins – they love it."

Virgil looked at his sons who were now toddling around the dinosaurs feet and grinned fondly. "We can set it up in one of the garages," he decided. "Thanks, guys." He paused. "Is there anyone looking for this?"

Danny shrugged. "I wouldn't take it to Mexico anytime soon."

"Mexico," Virgil nodded.

"Or Britain," Basher added, walking up already wearing a brightly-coloured party hat.

They looked at him.

"It's from that TV program," he explained. "I saw it a few years back."

Huh. The dinosaur had been on TV. Well, that was kind of cool. They'd just seen the exhibition advertised and figured it would make for a great birthday present.

Virgil looked up at it with a frown. "Only thing is, how am I going to explain this to Sarah?"

Turk nudged him. "Don't think you need to worry," he said, pointing to where Sarah was standing with Michael and Sonny, roaring right back at the dinosaur.

"Hey!" Virgil yelled. "You know the rules. No dinosaur impressions without Daddy!" He raced over, closely followed by Turk, and the kids were squealing with delight.

Danny glanced at Rusty and grinned. It was nice when presents were appreciated.


	60. Sexting For Dummies

**A/N: Dialogue fic again, and this is slash. Been a while since we've had slash. Also it has adult content, so that's your warning. :)**

* * *

"You going to miss me?"

"That depends."

"Huh."

"..."

"You're going to - "

" - the wilds of Helsinki - "

" - I don't think Helsinki has _wilds. _And really, Danny? You're not gonna miss me?"

"Don't pout."

"Too late. On what?"

"What?"

"That depends on what?"

"Oh. Yeah. Depends if you're gonna let me have any of that bottle, or are you just gonna keep pouring it on the carpet."

"Oh. Shit."

"Yeah."

"If I said the carpet looked thirsty...?"

"I'd say give it some water. It doesn't need booze. It already looks like someone threw up on it."

"You're just not a fan of opulent faux-renaissance design."

"See, I know you're just stringing words together to sound like you know what you're talking about."

"When has that ever let us down?"

"..."

"Oh, you are never gonna let me forget that."

"That wasn't what I was thinking about."

"I know. You're never gonna let me forget _that _either. Seriously. You're not gonna miss me?"

"Like you miss the carpet."

"Sometimes I just don't know why I put up with you."

"For the sex?"

"Oh, it's not that g – mmph!"

"..."

"..."

""Bite your tongue."

"I think you just did. Okay. Maybe for the sex."

"So what brought on this particular burst of insecurity anyway?"

"Insecurity?"

"All the 'Will you miss me?' shit."

"Well, since apparently you won't, I guess it's not important but...I bought you a present."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know this was a gift giving occasion."

"You're frantically trying to figure out if you've forgotten our anniversary, aren't you?"

"We have an anniversary?"

"We're timeless. Anyway, we got the whisky, the mood lighting, you're gonna be gone for six weeks...I thought I'd get you a present. Like this."

"Rus' - "

" - I know. Open it."

"..."

"..."

"A new phone."

"I figured since Linus stepped on your old one - "

" - it still works!"

"For a given value of 'work', I suppose."

"Thanks, Rus'."

"You want me to show you how to use it?"

"How well you know me."

"Okay. To turn it on, push that button. If you want to make a call, just press that little thing that looks like a green phone. You want to get into your address book, press on the book icon. I put everyone's numbers in already."

"Wait, who's everyone?"

"Everyone's everyone."

"That's a lot of everyone."

"You want to get on the internet press here, and _this _is the camera mode."

"Well that's..._huh._"

"..."

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're taking your clothes off."

"Then that's what I'm doing."

"Suddenly I'm feeling over-dressed."

"Is it hot in here or is it just you?"

"Camera mode."

"Yep. Like I said. I was worried you'd miss me. Thought you should get something to keep you warm in the long, cold Helsinki nights."

"I suppose I should be flattered you didn't get me fluffy slippers."

"Maybe next time. So. You - "

" _oh, _yes."

"Thought so. How do you want me?"

"Every way imaginable."

"Your flight leaves in six hours. I don't think we have time to work through your imagination."

"Just...lie down on the bed and prop yourself up on one elbow. Yeah. Now move your leg a little...exactly. And just run your hand through your hair and...yes. That's it. Perfect."

"You have given this way more thought than I expected you would."

"You still claiming you're not an exhibitionist?"

"Just think about what that makes _you._"

"Oh, I have every intention of showing you exactly what that makes me. Just let me take one more and save it...there."

"Good. Now. Are you going to come over here and show me your imagination?"

"..."

"Huh. I'm not used to being ignored when I'm this naked."

"..."

"Danny?"

"..."

"_Danny._"

"I think...I think I just sent a naked picture of you to everyone."

"Who's everyone?"

"_Everyone's _everyone."

"Huh. You are terrible for my reputation."

"..."

"Really."

"Yeah."

"You can't have."

_Beep._

"That's...Turk says you look pretty good for an old guy."

"_Old?_ No, never mind. Give me - "

_Beep._

"And Linus wants to know if I meant to send that to him."

"Why the hell would you ever mean to send that to him? Give me that. How did you...The whole address book? It doesn't even have an automatic function to send a picture to the whole address book!"

_Beep. Beep. Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep._

"That's a lot of text messages."

"Give me that back."

"I'm almost afraid to let you touch it."

"Reuben says I should have used a polaroid. Livingston says he's deleting the photo - "

" - think he's already got one. Unless he deleted that one already."

"And here I thought I was special. Saul politely requests that I delete his number if that's what I'm going to do."

"He'll forgive you."

"Not immediately. Virgil says that Turk's already put it on Facebook. And Tumblr. And Instagram. And Myspace."

"Is anyone even on Myspace anymore?"

"You're asking that like you think I have the answers."

_Beep._

"Saul again. He wants to know if that's a bullet scar in your leg."

"Tell him no."

"First, I'm not lying to him, second I'm not telling anyone _anything. _I am going to Helsinki in six hours, remember? I may stay there. Permanently."

"As always, I'm grateful for your constant support."

"Hey, people seeing you naked is not a big thing. People knowing that I'm - "

" - deflowering me?"

"...I think the ship has sailed on that one too."

"'s okay, you know. There'll be teasing. We'll retaliate. Everything will go back to normal. Plus, you'll still have that photo for Helsinki."

"Yeah, I think knowing Saul and Reuben have seen it will act more like a bucket of cold water."

"So now you won't have to think about baseball so much."

"..."

"..."

"I do not need - "

" - so put the phone down and come show me."

_Beep._

"Leave it."

"Yeah, I'll just turn it off and...fuck!"

"What fuck?"

"Terry Benedict would like to compliment me on my taste and ask if I'm advertising for the next set of hooker flyers."

"..."

"..."

"You sent a naked picture of me to Terry Benedict?"

"I..._what? _I didn't even know he was in my phone. Why the hell is he in my phone? Since when was Terry a part of everyone?"

"_You sent a naked picture of me to Terry Benedict?!"_

"Maybe I can catch an earlier flight to Helsinki."

"..."

"Fuck. What do you think he's gonna do with it?"

"..."

"..."

"Not _that. _Jesus, Danny. But yeah. We're gonna have to get it off him."

"We're gonna have to get it off him and then some."

"You really didn't like that crack about advertising, did you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I love it when you're plotting. C'mere. We got six hours before Helsinki. Let's not waste them on Terry Benedict."

"Mmm hmmm? What else did you...oh!"

"...I'm sure that was gonna be a suave line, right?"

"Don't talk with your mouth f...ahhhhhh!"

"I'm good at multitasking"

"I...noticed..."

"..."

"Okay. New rule. I'm the only one who gets to see you naked."

"No promises."

* * *

**A/N: Huh. That last section is sort of porn-y. In dialogue form. Since when did porn have dialogue anyway?**


End file.
